


BLUE

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, But Gemma is around, Harry is a Med Student, Harry's parents are little shits so I made them OCs, Lots and lots of Nouis, Louis is a recovering alcoholic, Louis owns a bookstore, M/M, Mentions of alcoholism, Niall is Louis' guardian angel, Nouis, Past Zarry but nothing happens in the present, Smut, There aren't many triggering scenes but it's part of the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-12 12:35:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 46,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9072007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "I know you're seeing black and white, so I'll paint you a clear blue sky; without you I am colour-blind, it's raining every time I open my eyes."OR, the one where Louis is a twenty-eight years old recovering alcoholic who owns a bookstore just outside the campus where, Harry, twenty-one years old, is a med student with shitty parents. Zayn is Harry's ex and they're childhood friends. Niall is a musician and, most of all, Louis' guardian angel. Liam is pinning after this one girl who really, really likes literature. Oh, and Harry wears a lot of plaid.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, little loves. First of all, I just want to say a massive thank you to everyone reading this. Please be aware that I do not own One Direction, Louis Tomlinson or Harry Styles, and while this is based off their personalities and such, it's all a work of fiction. Also, I've dealt with alcoholism in my family so be sure that I'll make sure to be as accurate and respectful as possible - that being said, there aren't many triggering moments in this story. I will make sure to let you know if there are any, before each chapter.

It’s Time – Imagine Dragons

Louis hates mornings. He hates the _feel_ of it, the rush of people, the smell of fresh rain on the pavement first thing in the morning. He hates the fact that, no matter how early he goes to bed, he will always wake up feeling like utter death. He especially hates the fact that he never, ever goes to bed early enough to make a point of that. There is always a distraction – and last night’s was Niall’s inquire that they _had_ to watch this new show he was getting into.

He hates more than anything when said roommate drinks the last of his Yorkshire tea, doesn’t tell him and Louis’ got to go to work without a single drop of his only allowed addiction in his veins.

Now, the getting to work part is absolute hell, of course, but as soon as Louis steps his worn out Vans into the small, vintage-looking bookshop… well, then everything else doesn’t really matter, because he is home.

You see, Louis isn’t getting any younger – he’s got twenty-eight years on his back to prove it – and he hasn’t conquered many things in his life, so the shop is his pride and joy. Sure, a lot of the books are old and have been bought, some donated, from other people. He does realize the right corner of the store holds a leaking ceiling at times, and the walls could probably use a fresh coat of painting, but the place is _his_.

From the soft knitted duvets laying on a few of the cozy chairs to the coffee machine (A gift from Niall when he first opened the place, five years ago) and the old records resting on a pile by the counter, it is all his. Louis did all that. Not only did he survive, but he built something.

“Ah, bloody hell,” he groans under his breath, already removing his jacket and hanging it on the tall hanger by the door. There is a small mop on the floor to the right and he sees it the second he walks into the store, certainly a gift from last night’s stronger rain.

Well. He will deal with that in just a moment – he just needs to make sure he is actually alive first.

Louis walks over to the back room, humming to whatever song he’s got stuck in his head at the moment – he is fairly certain it’s Imagine Dragons this time – and pulls his phone out to text Aiden. ‘ _tea emergency, pls save me xo_ ’ it says simply, but he knows the guy will understand. Aiden’s been working for Louis for almost as long as the shop’s been open, amongst… well, other things, and by now he knows him well enough to understand without further explanation.

Louis turns the heater on and pulls a duvet over his lap as he sits on the large couch that lays alone in the back room. The back room is just that: a large leather couch that Louis bought from his neighbour, Mrs. Jackson, a few years back. There is also a small coffee table, and some photos hanging on the walls, but the essence of the room is the couch. Louis’ favourite nap spot, or the best place for him to curl up and read a book when the shop’s not too busy.

He makes a fair amount of money, is the thing. It’s better than what he hoped for, to be quite honest, but what with sitting _just_ outside of a university campus and the whole vintage feel of the store, he gets a lot of students and tourists. Still, it’s mostly quiet and peaceful around there.

Once Louis is three pages in the Jane Austen novel in his hand, he hears the front bell ringing meaning that someone has stepped into the shop, but makes no move to get up. It’s most definitely Aiden, and God bless his soul, he’s probably got Louis’ tea ready for him.

It’s not Aiden’s voice he hears, though. There is a small conversation being held, and Louis can’t make out most of it due to the low, hushed tone of voices, but he does hear a “No, I swear this is the place”.

Alright. Costumers then. A bit early for that, but Louis’ got bills to pay and an obese cat to feed, so.

He puts the book aside and fixes the large grey sweater over his body, putting his professional small grin on before he makes his way to the front.

“Good morning,” his voice sounds a bit too gruff even to his own ears, so he clears his throat before he can continue. “Hi, I’m Louis. May I help you?”

Before Louis, two tall males stand, both clearly in their early twenties. _Students_ , Louis bets. _Not quite the tourist attire._ One of them has a buzz cut, large chocolate eyes, and an easy, polite smile – he is obviously built, shirt a bit too tight against his chest for Louis’ liking. The other is a bit taller, a mop of brown curls reaching just below his jaw, and, well, _fuck_. Louis didn’t even know eyes could be that green. He has plump, rosy lips that leave a lot of room for imagination, a strong jaw and… oh. He smiles, and apparently he’s got some dimples, too.

Louis snaps back to reality once he realizes he’s probably been staring for longer than what’s considered polite.

“Oh, hi. My name is Liam, this is,” Buzzcut points in the general direction of the other lad. “This is Harry. I read about your shop online? Like, on Yelp?”

Louis raises an amused eyebrow. He didn’t even _know_ he was on Yelp.

“Oh? That’s… um, sorry, man. Must’ve been my co-worker who put that online.” Louis grimaces a bit, but the easy, practiced grin is back on his face in no time. “What can I do for you?”

Green Eyes – Harry, was it? – snickers, but covers it up quickly with a cough. His eyes light up with mischief, and Louis is so, so very interested in what his eyes have got to say to him.

“You see, Louis, my friend here,” Harry drawls, his voice so fucking _deep_ that Louis feels his knees weaken for a moment. He definitely needs that tea right about now. “He is looking to impress this one girl. She is an English major and, apparently, the _smartest girl ever_.”

The way Harry says it makes Louis think he got those exact words from Buzzcut, and the way the other lad blushes fiercely proves Louis correct. He can’t help but smirk, a knowing glint hidden behind it.

“Is she now?”

“Mhm,” Harry nods slowly, leaning a bit over the counter so he is closer to Louis. It feels like they’re sharing a secret, and Louis feels a bit silly for even thinking that. “A bit of a stuck up, if you ask me, but he is properly smitten.”

Liam rolls his eyes, smacking Harry’s arm. “Hey! Be nice, Styles. I brought you here for a reason.”

Harry snickers again, and this time makes no move to try and cover up. Louis likes the sound quite a lot. He wonders briefly if Harry moans as pretty as he laughs.

“Well, so you’re looking for… help? I’m a bit lost. Do you want me to point you in the direction of the classics?”

Liam nods quickly, a bit too eager, and again, Harry laughs. Okay, this is getting out of control. He has got to stop, because Louis doubts it’s healthy for someone to get a boner over the sound of _laughter_ , but he is dangerously close to it.

“That would be so incredible, Louis. I just need the basic stuff, you know? Like… like conversation starters.” He snaps two fingers quickly, as if suddenly remembering something. “Oh! Moby Dick! That’s a classic, right?”

Louis barely holds his own snicker this time around. “Moby Dick? Didn’t you read that in high school, mate?”

Harry cackles, and honestly, _why_.

“Oh, Liam is a computer nerd.” Harry leans close again, and this time, a huff of air brings his musky, boyish scent to Louis’ nostrils. “He is too smart for his own good, but he can’t tell Lady Gaga from Beyoncé, nor has he got any knowledge of life outside of technology.”

Liam elbows him in the ribs, _hard_ , and Louis wants to smack the lad upside the head for hurting Harry. It’s insane, stupid even, but he will blame it on the lack of tea in his system.

As if God himself is answering Louis’ calls ( _Ha_. When did that ever happen?), the bell rings again, announcing the presence of a fourth part, and Louis smiles widely when he sees Aiden carrying his to-go cup of tea.

“Oh, thank goodness, you’re here.” He nearly jumps from behind the counter, and he almost doesn’t notice the once-over Harry gives him… except he does. Louis thanks whoever is up there for making him choose his tighter jeans that morning. “You’re a saint, I love you so much.”

Aiden chuckles, shrugging off his maroon hoodie, and Louis snatches the cup from him, taking a long sip of the hot liquid, letting the taste and smell take over his senses for a few moments. Aiden passes by him, planting a loud, wet kiss on his cheek, and Louis giggles, pushing him away. When his eyes land on the younger pair before him, he notices a flash of discomfort cross over Harry’s face. It is gone as soon as it shows, but Louis frowns a bit at that.

“Oh, Aiden, this is Liam and Harry,” Louis says, gesturing to the pair. Liam smiles and waves, and Louis notices Harry stutter for a split of second before he smiles as well. “Liam here is looking for some help. Introduction to the classics, and all. What should we give him?”

You see, there was a reason why Louis hired Aiden in the first place. Aiden was freshly out of college, an English degree in hand and no idea about what to do with his life, when Louis hired him four years ago. His cute smile and boyish glam would only last for a month or so in Louis’ graces, but the way he absolutely _beamed_ when talking about books… Well, that was the selling point. Louis loves to read, could spend days at a time doing nothing more than that, but he is an amateur when compared to the other lad.

He immediately starts mentioning a thousand titles and authors that Liam has _got_ to read, no further questions asked, no snickering when Liam mentions he hasn’t read Moby Dick. Louis wonders briefly if Aiden should own this bookstore instead.

The two of them wander into one of the aisles of books and Louis returns to his spot behind the counter, carefully sipping on his tea, both hands wrapped around the cup as he blows softly on the warm liquid.

He looks up after a moment, and notices that Harry is still there.

“May I help you, Harold?” He tuts playfully, an easy grin stretching across his lips. Harry looks taken back for all of a second, but then his dimpled smile is back as well, a shrug on his broad shoulders.

“My name is not Harold.” He ignores Louis’ question altogether, leaning against the counter. He picks up some fliers that rest on the surface, reading over it absent-mindedly. Louis still picks up on the right corner of his lips lifting up a tad bit.

“Should be. A posh lad’s name for a posh boy like you. Fits right.”

And, well, the thing is that Louis is a _master_ of banter. He does it all the time, with his friends, family, boyfriends. He was known for his big mouth back in high school, became known for his quick tongue in his group of friends and everyone who’s ever met Louis knows it is waiting for them.

He doesn’t recall ever jumping into it as fast as he did just now, within… fifteen minutes of meeting Harry, and he is about to take it back, maybe even apologize – because he doesn’t _know_ Harry.

“Posh? Why am I _posh_?” Harry bites back, but Louis notices he is fighting back a giggle. ‘ _Don’t_ ,’ he wants to say. ‘ _I want to hear your laugh again._ ’

Thank God – or whatever it is that’s up there – that he doesn’t.

“Oh, you know,” he imitates Harry’s slow drawl. Harry doesn’t seem mad, amused even, so the banter shall continue. “ _He can’t tell Lady Gaga from Beyoncé, nor has he got any knowledge outside of technology_.”

Harry cackles, _loudly_ at that, his beautiful laughter filling the small shop and nearly startling Louis. He hides his amused smirk behind the cup of tea, but the wrinkles by his blue eyes betray him.

“I do _not_ sound like that, Louis.” Harry ruffles a hand through his curls, pushing it off his face, and Louis follows the movement for all of a second before his eyes snap back to Harry’s face.

“ _I do not sound like that, Louis_ ,” Louis imitates again, making his voice deeper this time. Harry tucks a plush rosy lip beneath his teeth and Louis wishes he could bite that lip- _no_. He is being ridiculous.

“Do you treat all of your clients like that? It’s not very professional, you see.”

Louis would maybe be concerned that Harry’s serious, but he is smiling widely again, dimples carving his cheeks so beautifully that Louis could cry.

“You see, you’re not my client, though. _Liam_ is.” He winks a playful eye, taking another sip of his Yorkie. Harry opens his mouth to reply, but Liam chooses that exact moment to cry out “Oh, I read _that_ one! Harry, come here!” from somewhere in the shop.

Harry gives him a crooked smile and heads over to the source of the sound, muttering something to himself. Louis hates Liam for taking him away. Louis hates himself for even thinking that. Louis hates the book Liam’s read.

Louis finds out later that it was _Le Petit Prince_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! hopefully you'll continue to read this. i am very far ahead in this story, so it's really not going to take me too long to finish posting. hope you like it! x


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am so glad to see a few people have left their kudos, it's definitely heart-warming and it gives me so much muse to continue writing. Thank you! In this chapter, there is a bit of a triggering scene in regards of Louis' alcoholism, but it's definitely nothing major and hopefully there won't be any issues. I hope you like it! x

Sweater Weather – The Neighbourhood

It’s always raining, raining, raining. For someone who’s lived in England his entire life, Louis should probably be used to it by now. He isn’t.

Rain makes him sad, is the thing. The smell is annoying, he is always so _cold_ and actually functioning during days like these is impossible. He’s got a list of things he needs to do, a worn out leather journal under his arm, a to-go cuppa in his hand, but he has been sitting in his car for so long that he wonders what the nosy lady who lives across from his building is thinking.

 _Surely he’s drunk again_. Ha. He can hear her thoughts from here.

After a long, deep intake of breath, Louis places his tea in the cup holder and starts the car. _‘Fuck you, nosy lady from across the street,_ ’ he thinks bitterly. ‘ _Look at me now, being pro-active and all._ ’

He goes through his mental list of things to do, patting himself a few times on the cheek to remember. _Pick up Niall’s guitar from the shop_ – a favour his roommate has been asking for ages, but Louis always seems to neglect. _Buy cat food!!!!_ He can see his own messy handwriting scribbling that on a piece of paper that morning. _Buy people food!!!!_ Niall’s handwriting, right under his. _Buy Fizzy’s birthday gift, YOU IDIOT._

Photographic memory is as much of a gift as it is a curse. He can’t even pretend to forget. He can’t even forget what he wants to.

The trip to the guitar shop is a pain in the arse, and Louis curses under his breath more than a few times as he drives through traffic. It’s a Saturday morning, it’s raining like a waterfall and why in the bloody hell can’t the London streets just… clear up for him? Niall owes him, big time.

A nagging voice in the back of his mind tells him that _he_ owes Niall his life and so much more. He ignores that voice in order to continue being bitter.

After that’s been dealt with, he has Niall’s guitar safe and sound in the backseat of his car, a long note from the shop’s owner that tells Niall that “it’s the last time he is fixing it for free” (Louis doubts that; everyone gives Niall free shit, it’s his superpower) and the sky is not even _that_ dark anymore. Not that it’s sunny or anything like that, but, well. Louis is taking whatever wins he can get.

 _Buy cat food_ and _buy people_ _food_ are the next things on his to-do list, and Louis takes great pleasure in opening the actual journal and ticking the first item off. He is such a responsible adult; his mum would be proud.

There is a _Tesco_ just on the way to his shop, and while Louis gives himself the weekends off, he usually stops by to check on things and pester Aiden. Might as well. The drive is just as painfully long as it was to Niall’s guitar, but at least it’s not raining anymore, so he hums happily under his breath to whatever song is on the radio.

**.**

“Louis?”

Louis’ got his head stuck inside a freezer, reaching for the last carton of Cookie Dough ice cream that sits far from the front, when he hears a familiar voice calling his name. He pulls back so fast that he ends up knocking the back of his head against the top shelf of the freezer, and he curses loudly, almost dropping the ice cream to the ground.

“Woah,” Harry quickly reaches for it, taking the carton from Louis and holding it safely against his own chest. Louis notices he is wearing a green plaid shirt that day, and his curls are pulled in a tiny bun. He _almost_ smiles.

“Are you trying to kill me, Harold?”

Harry giggles, and fuck. That sound is just lovely.

You see, the thing is, Louis hadn’t seen or thought about Harry since that Monday. It’s been almost a week and, yes, Harry might’ve been the subject of Louis’ thoughts for the rest of his work shift that day, but after that…eh. Things just got in the way.

He had almost forgotten how incredible he looks. How sweet his laughter sounds. How green his eyes are. How plump and rosy his lips look, and how deep his voice sounds, and…he is talking. To Louis.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Harry’s easy smile turns into a knowing grin and he shakes his head. “I _said_ , Louis, that I’m sorry for startling you. Truly didn’t mean to.”

He hands the carton of ice cream back to Louis, who accepts it with a small nod. Harry looks actually sorry, as if he’d slapped Louis or pushed his head against the stupid shelf. It’s as endearing as it is hopeless.

“Don’t worry, I’m all good.” He smiles weakly, reaching behind his head to feel for any bumps. Nothing yet, thankfully.

“What are you doing here?”

As soon as the words are out, Harry seems to feel stupid. He pointedly smacks his forehead, chuckling low in his throat and Louis fights back his own chuckle, raising the carton of ice cream to Harry’s eyesight before he dumps it in the cart along with the other items.

“Groceries, of course. That was such a stupid question.” Harry continues, a faint blush covering his cheeks. His eyes have never looked greener, and Louis takes great pleasure in picturing Harry’s face even more flushed, sweaty, panting, writhing with pleasure. On top of him, please. _Now_ , please.

‘ _You are absolutely disgusting_ ,’ Louis tells himself. ‘ _Stop pinning._ ’

“It’s okay, Harry. Each person is allowed one stupid question per day.” He flicks his fringe off his eyes with a practiced move of his wrist, and he can’t help but smile softly when he sees Harry’s eyes following the movement.

“Yes? Whoever told you that?”

Louis grins, knocking his knuckles against the top of his head and winking a playful eye. “Oh, I’m old. I know things.”

The beautiful sound of Harry’s giggle should not make him feel as warm inside as it does.

“You’re not _that_ old. Twenty-four, twenty-five?” Harry rolls his eyes. “You’re just making things up as you go.”

“Well, while that last bit is true,” Louis chuckles, leaning over to whisper conspiratorially. “I’m actually twenty-eight. Almost thirty, so. Old, old, old.”

A flash of something crosses over Harry’s face, but it’s over too much too soon for Louis to figure out. He opens his mouth to say something, but a call of his name makes the two of them turn to look at the source of it.

 _Fuck me_ , he thinks.

“He gets that a lot,” Harry breathes out next to him, bumping his hip against Louis as he walks past him. Okay, so maybe Louis said that out loud. That’s not embarrassing _at all_. “Louis, this is Zayn.” He gestures to the raven-haired wonder of a boy as he walks towards them. Zayn is all pouty lips, golden eyes, sharp angles, insanely long lashes and perfectly quiffed hair. He is insanely beautiful, is the thing, but he is not…he is not Harry. Louis tries not to think about what that means.

“Louis.” He offers his hand out for the other male to shake, and he gets a firm hold from him, although Zayn looks far from impressed.

“Yeah, I heard him.” Zayn says, and well, fuck you. That’s a tad bit too cold. Louis is about to question why that was, when he notices the way his arm falls protectively around Harry’s waist. Oh. Well.

That was over before it even began. If Louis thought that maybe Harry had been innocently flirting with him, he was very, very wrong – or maybe he was right, if Harry _does_ like blokes, but it’s not going anywhere.

“We have to go. I’ve paid for our stuff.” Zayn says, leaning into Harry’s side. Louis could cry at how hot of a couple they are, but he is probably going to cry about the fact that Harry is _taken_.

Harry, whom he hadn’t even thought about all week but is now so close. Harry, who apparently likes men, but is taken. Isn’t that just Louis’ luck?

“Um,” Harry stretches his arms out awkwardly, deliberately stepping away from Zayn’s embrace. Louis feels a tug of something in his stomach, and he is not even ashamed to say he is content. Zayn is now staring at the spot where Harry had just stood, his arm hanging around the air. “Yes, of course. I’ll…I’ll see you around, Lou?”

 _Lou_.

“Yes, sure, Harold. Have a good weekend.” He says, smiling at the boy before his eyes land on Zayn, and the smile is replaced by a firm nod. Zayn only levels him with a look, and fuck that. Louis is a grown ass man; he is not going to be intimidated by that boy. A _gorgeous_ boy, but a boy no less.

Harry grins and turns, Zayn leading the way down the aisle. It seems like he is whispering something to Harry, but Louis makes a point to turn around and continue picking junk food for him and Niall to eat later in front of the TV. Hopefully he doesn’t have a gig tonight? Louis really doesn’t want to be alone and-

“Lou!” Harry calls out, jogging from the end of the aisle to Louis’ side again. His cheeks are flushed, and Louis doubts it has anything to do with the short jog. “What are you doing tonight?”

 “Sorry?”

“Tonight. What are you doing this evening?”

“Eh,” Louis scratches the back of his neck awkwardly for a moment. _Watch Netflix and beg my cat to love me_ , he should say. There is no way he is doing that, though. “Nothing yet, I reckon. Why?”

Harry beams a smile, and Louis finds himself staring at the dimples carving his cheeks once more.

“Do you…I mean…do you want to go get a pint with me or summat?”

Louis’ chest tightens.

_No. Absolutely fucking not. No fucking way. Nope. Not at all._

“Yes, of course.” He replies instead, grinning widely at Harry. The curly-haired lad does a little fist pump, and Louis chuckles, ignoring the way his chest tightens even more, how his knees suddenly feel weak.

“Can I…um, can I have your number?” Harry drawls out, holding his hands behind his back and grinning like an oversized puppy. Louis can do this. He can do this.

**.**

Sober – Pink

Louis cannot do this. His heart is beating loudly inside his chest, and he has the worst headache of his life; Niall yelled at him for fifteen straight minutes, only taking two breaks. One, he needed to piss; two, he needed some water.

This is stupid, Louis knows that. He should not be putting himself in that position, he doesn’t _need_ to. He has nothing to be ashamed of and he could easily tell Harry that, no, he’d rather not meet him for a pint.

Maybe they could’ve agreed on Chinese. Does Harry like Chinese? He looks like the healthy type, over all, but maybe they could’ve done something else.

Salads.

Why didn’t Louis suggest salads, instead?

The point is…he didn’t. He didn’t, and now he is standing in front of a pub, filled with young college students, loud music and reeking of alcohol.

Louis feels his stomach turn and he feels like he is about to have a panic attack. He has never once wanted to go home and _beg_ Frida to love him as much as he does now. He can’t shake the look of betrayal on Niall’s face off. He can’t shake his own feeling of disappointment off.

Somehow, he still finds himself walking into the pub, hands tight as fists, the back of his neck damp with sweat. He spots Harry easily, surrounded by a group of people, beaming with a wide smile, wearing yet _another_ plaid shirt. Black and blue this time around.

His curls are loose and pushed back, and Louis’ mouth turns up with a smile without even meaning to. He notices a can of soda in Harry’s hand and he feels his stomach clench around nothing, sucking his cheeks in and trying to just…chill out. He can do that.

He doesn’t even have to try and get Harry’s attention. His eyes are on him within a split of a second, the green colour electric, his lips extra pink now. Harry leans over to whisper something in a taller lad’s ear, giggles at whatever said lad says, and rushes over to Louis’ side.

“Hey!” He lands a hand on Louis’ shoulder, squeezing firmly for a moment before letting go. “You made it.”

Louis fights the urge to cackle, downright _cackle_ , because Harry makes it sound so effortless, being here. _You made it_ , like he was just afraid Louis would stand him up or something. _You made it_ , like he is just glad Louis is here.

“I was waiting for you to get started, so I’m just going to get us some pints and then we can…”

Louis’ head twirls so fast he feels like he is about to explode. He is gonna vomit, for sure. He is gonna vomit and Harry is gonna be disgusted and this…this Harry thing will be over before he is in too deep.

Maybe it’s a good thing.

Harry gestures behind himself with a thumb, and Louis realizes he hadn’t heard anything the boy had just said. Harry is smiling, though, all dimpled and with bright eyes, and he is just so _beautiful_. Louis feels sick to his stomach for a lot of reasons – but mostly because he is afraid of what Harry is going to think.

“I can’t be here,” his voice is firm, low enough to not be heard by other people, loud enough that Harry doesn’t need to lean over in order to hear him. Harry’s eyebrows shoot up, but before he can say anything, Louis raises a hand to stop him. “No, please listen. I am so, so fucking thrilled you asked me out. I really am. If this is just friendly or whatever the fuck it is, I’m glad. But I can’t be here.”

“Lou, if you don’t like this pub, we can…”

Louis snorts, but there is one single hint of humour in his laugh.

“I’m a recovering alcoholic.” There, now it’s the time Harry flees. He is not the first, won’t be the last. “Nearly six years sober. Haven’t had one single drop of alcohol in all this time, and usually it’s not that big of a deal. Usually I can sit in the corner if there is alcohol involved, and usually I’m _fine_ , but _this_ is too much.” He gestures around the packed pub. “I am so sorry, but I…I can’t be here.”

Harry opens his mouth again, but closes it immediately. His eyes are wide and there is a hint of something that Louis prays to God is not pity, because he cannot handle _that_ , but Harry makes no move to speak. Louis knows he shouldn’t be ashamed, he does, but his chest is aching and he hates that he feels like he is about to cry. He hates that Harry hasn’t said a word yet.

Louis looks over his shoulder, taking a deep breath before he can finally speak. “I should go.”

That seems to snap Harry out of it, because he reaches for Louis’ arm again, his bicep this time, and squeezes it gently.

“Do you…do you want to go…eat?”

Louis’ eyebrows shoot up. “Eat?”

“Um,” Harry clears his throat. “Yes, are you…are you hungry?”

Louis hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, what with freaking out over this meeting, and his stomach chooses that very moment to growl audibly, making him chuckle. He can do this. Harry wants him to do this.

“Do you like Chinese food?” Louis asks.

Harry smiles softly, and it’s just a small one, just a hint of a grin, but Louis feels like a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

**.**

As it turns out, Harry quite likes Chinese food. Louis does point out that he seems like the healthy type, but Harry just laughs and rolls his eyes, stuffing another Spring roll into his mouth.

“I’m not saying I’ll eat _this_ every day. I do work out a lot, and I try to keep a balanced diet, but fuck _me_ , this is too good.”

Louis laughs so hard that Coke almost shoots out of his nostrils, and that sends Harry over the edge with another fit of giggles. They’re sitting side to side in a small booth at this Chinese place outside of campus, Louis’ got a casual arm resting on the back of Harry’s seat (He isn’t even sure how that happened), and their thighs are touching, and it is just…it’s…comfortable.

They’ve gone through so much food that Louis feels like he might not be able to walk up the two levels of stairs to his flat later, and there are at least half a dozen cans of soda scattered over their table. They’ve been making easy conversation, not one moment of comfortable silence, and Louis’ learned a few things about Harry so far.

He’s learned that Harry is studying pre-med, both of his parents being doctors ( _“Posh, posh, posh. I called it!”_ He teased, and Harry’s face flushed a deep shade of pink that Louis was positively in love with), he is from a small town (Louis grinned so hard when Harry pinched the air to show how small of a town it was) and he does actually own shirts other than plaid button-downs. Louis called bullshit on that, but when Harry grinned cheekily and promised to show them to Louis in his room, the older male threw his head back and laughed.

Harry loves folk music, he is twenty-one, has an older sister (Still younger than Louis) and he doesn’t actually say it, but Louis’ got the feeling they’re quite close.

“What about you? What are you gonna tell me about you?”

Louis licks some sauce off his thumb and he grins, lopsided and a tiny bit shy. “Jesus, Harold. You want to know _more_? I’ve shared quite a bit of a story earlier.”

“While I do appreciate that you’ve trusted me with a part of your story,” Harry lifts his right shoulder in a shrug. “It’s not…it’s not all of you. I’ve talked about my family and taste in music, I’ve had to endure your teasing for my wardrobe choices…” He grins. “It’s only fair you share those things with me as well.”

Harry sounds so sincere that Louis can’t help but smile. This would usually be the part where he tells whoever is inquiring so much from him to fuck off. Make a joke, punch their arm.

“How about we leave that for second date?” Is what he says instead. Louis is definitely not a shy guy, he is pretty confident in his looks and his sweet-talking, but he is not usually this forward. His past has left him a bit shaken when it comes to dating, is the thing, and he’s got four years of messing around with Aiden without ever taking him _home_ to prove it.

The way Harry smiles, bright and eager, makes Louis forget why he is even concerned.

“Is this a date?”

“If you want it to be, yes.”

Harry takes another bite of his spring roll, licking the sauce from the corner of his lip, and Louis can tell he is trying to suppress a grin.

“Second date it is.”

**.**

Louis drives Harry home, and he isn’t even bothered when Harry starts going through _everything_ he can find in his car. It’s not very polite, is the thing, but Harry is just so gentle with the way he does it – He mumbles a “Oh, I love this one!” when he pulls out a John Mayer CD, asks softly if he can have some of that gum, folds neatly the spare t-shirt Louis keeps in his car – that Louis is just very endeared.

Despite owning a shop outside of campus and interacting with university students all day long, Louis hasn’t ever been _inside_ of campus, so Harry has to guide him towards his dormitory and Louis can’t help but smile softly when Harry makes a point to touch his shoulder, the back of his neck and forearm whenever he is giving him directions.

His touch is warm and his hands are so fucking soft, but Louis will be damned if he gets hard to the damn thought of _hands_. He is not a pervert, thank you very much.

“This is it,” Harry runs his fingertips through the thin soft hair of Louis’ forearm and, yes, well, he is definitely doing that on purpose. Louis puts the car to a stop in front of a large building, a steady flow of people coming in and out – what with being Saturday night and all. A quick glance at the clock tells him it’s half past eleven, and that’s awfully early for a uni student to be coming home, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind.

“Well, home sweet home, princess.” Louis teases, unbuckling his seatbelt so he can shift in his seat to look at Harry. Harry is already turned towards him, green eyes wide and earnest and _expecting_. This is the fun part.

The butterflies, and the want, the will-he-kiss-me vibe. They’ve established this was a date, but Louis doesn’t know if Harry is looking for a goodnight kiss. He thinks so, yes, what with the way Harry is staring at him right now, but it’s been…a while since he’s been in an official date. Besides, Harry’s been looking at him like that all night – needless to say, it was quite distracting at times.

“Do you want me to…should I…walk you to the front? Is this what your kids do these days?” Ha, Louis is hilarious. Banter is his defence mechanism, thank you very much. He doesn’t do well with awkward silences.

“No, I’m good,” Harry chuckles softly. He licks his lips and Louis notices he is eyeing _his_ lips, and yes, maybe he does want to be kissed. Why isn’t Louis kissing him? “Okay. I…I had a great time, Lou. Thank you.”

Louis nods slowly, drumming his fingers against the top of his thighs in an attempt to appear cool. _Why aren’t you kissing him?_ He wants to slap himself. He probably will.

“I’ll see you soon?”

Harry smiles, and it’s a lot more sincere, a lot less awkward now. “Yes, yes, of course.” He leans over just a bit, seems to rethink his decision, and leans back. He sends a smile Louis’ way and then he opens the car door, stepping outside.

Louis is stunned, watching Harry walk to the front of his building, and _fuck_. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He is so fucking _dumb_. Why didn’t he kiss him?

“Ah, fuck it,” he growls under his breath, opening his door and stepping outside. It’s chilly and he immediately regrets not wearing a thicker coat, but he can’t be bothered to think about that now. “Harry!”

Harry looks over his shoulder quickly, as he had a hand pushing the door open already. He looks puzzled for a moment, eyebrows knitted together, and turns to Louis, walking a few steps ahead towards him.

“Yes? Did I forget something?”

Louis shakes his head, and his steps are definitely very determined as he ends the distance between them. Harry’s eyes widen slowly with every step closer, but he makes no move to step back, to flinch away.

“No, no, I…I did.”

Harry’s lips are the softest he’s ever felt in his life, and that’s the first thing Louis’ mind registers. They’re plump and warm, despite the chilly weather, and when his tongue sneaks out to push past Louis’ lips, he tastes like a hint of sauce and the minty gum he’d been chewing in the car. Louis’ hands immediately move to his hips, feeling his way around Harry’s waist before he pulls him closer – Harry all but melts into it, arms tightening around Louis’ neck. They fit right away, is the thing; Louis can’t remember the last time he’s ever felt that.

“Bloody hell,” Louis murmurs against his plush lips, sucking them into another short kiss. Harry giggles, the soft, sweet sound making Louis’ knees buckle.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know if you're enjoying the story. x


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a tiny bit of a moment with Jay in this chapter. The story was written before her passing, and I didn't feel right changing it, because she is and will always be a huge part of Louis' life, and my own, by association. You can just skip that part if you prefer; you'll know when it's coming. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter!

for him. – Troye Sivan, Allday

“Do you not sleep?”

Harry stands to his full height after having picked up a book from the bottom shelf, looking over his shoulder and smiling at Louis. He is wearing a plain white t-shirt today, complete with the tightest jeans Louis has ever seen and a green beanie on top of his head. He looks as adorable as he does sinful. “Of course I do, what is this question?”

Louis brings his knees close to his chest, sipping on his tea; he is perfectly warm and cozy, sitting on one of the chairs that are usually reserved for his clients. It is eight in the morning, though, so it’s not like he expected anyone to come in…until he did. Harry did. For the second time that week, Harry was there within ten minutes of Louis having opened the shop, and it’s bloody insane for him that anyone would choose to wake up early.

“It’s eight a.m.,” he points out with raised eyebrows. “You’re here.”

“Does that bother you?”

Harry tucks the book under his arm, walking towards Louis. He looks broader with that shirt, maybe even taller. That part probably has got something to do with the boots he is wearing, but. Yes, Louis likes the shirt. It can stay.

“No, of course not, but I mean…it’s eight in the morning, Harold.”

Harry giggles, the sound warm and sweet, and sits on the chair opposite to Louis, opening the first page of the book. Louis doesn’t recognize it, but Harry got it from the vintage section, and there are body parts on the cover – for sure Louis hasn’t read that.

“Most of my classes are in the morning,” he shrugs. “I have learned that my day works better if I have more hours to go through it.”

“How old are you again?”

Harry laughs, resting the back of his head on the chair, and stretches his long, long legs ahead of himself. Louis lets his gaze flicker to his thighs for a moment, and Harry seems to notice, if the wink he sends Louis’ way is any indication. _Ha_ , Louis thinks. _Bloody tease._

The thing is, since their date on Saturday night, Louis and Harry have kept in touch…every day. Throughout Sunday Harry texted him a few times (An update on Liam and his girl, a selfie of him in bed, random things like “How do you take your tea?”), and before Louis knew it, he was texting back just as much. A photo of Niall with his recently fixed guitar, a few quotes from a movie he was watching, a bloody _goodnight H. x_ text. It was ridiculous, even Niall teased him for it, but Louis didn’t mind.

On Monday morning, Harry was there with a to-go cuppa for Louis – exactly the way he said he takes – and a sheepish smile. Louis didn’t ask, just let him in, and they ended up making out for a good twenty minutes, lazy morning kisses, on the couch in the backroom.

This morning, Harry was there too, tea in hand _again_ , and Louis smiled widely before letting him in. Instead of lazy morning kisses, Harry seemed a lot more interested in books this time around – eh, okay. Louis would survive. He wasn’t expecting lazy morning kisses.

He was.

“What? You’re staring,” Harry snorts without looking up from his book. “Don’t be creepy, Lou. Doesn’t suit you.”

Louis stretches a leg out and kicks his shin, receiving an “Ow!” and more giggles more Harry.

“Not staring, don’t be so full of yourself. Just…wondering.”

“About?”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

He wasn’t really wondering about that, but it’s been in his mind as well, so – no warm comes from asking.

Harry’s green eyes finally look up from his book, and he looks positively puzzled, eyeing Louis like he’s grown a second head.

“Excuse me?”

“Zayn. The lad with you at the store, the other day? Is he your boyfriend?”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up. He looks actually offended for a moment, licking his lips before pressing them together.

“Do you think I’d go on a date with you if I had a boyfriend?”

Louis sips on his tea again, pondering his answer for a second. “No.”

“Well, so?”

“It’s just…he seemed…protective? Like, the arm around your waist and that sort of thing. I got this vibe, but…I mean, I’m sorry. That was dumb.”

Harry sighs, his shoulders slumping as he sinks into the chair again. “No, I…I get that. I mean, why you’d wonder about that. Zayn is…he is very protective.”

Louis nods slowly, urging Harry to go on. The younger lad looks torn for a moment, but he puts the book aside and runs the tip of his boot up Louis’ stretched out calf. It’s nice.

“He was my first boyfriend. We were, what? Sixteen, seventeen?” He snorts. “We go _way_ back. Our families are friends and all.”

Well, isn’t that just sweet. Louis bites his tongue to keep from saying as much, but Harry must’ve recognized the sour look on his face, because he shakes his head quickly.

“Not for a long time, though. We broke up a few months into it, just didn’t _click_ , you know?” Harry starts chewing on his plump bottom lip, and Louis would be awfully distracted by it, if he wasn’t so interested in what he is saying. “We remained friends, good friends.”

“He didn’t seem very friendly.”

Harry snorts.

“Yeah, I suppose he didn’t. He was like that with Liam too, at first. He actually tried to get me to change roommates, to get us in the same dorm?” He rolls his eyes at the memory, and Louis feels something close to jealousy stirring in his stomach. He is not a jealous person, per say – has never been. Zayn is just weird. “But then he realized that, um, Liam wasn’t…a threat.”

“A threat?” Louis chuckles this time around, sipping on his tea once more. He notices that Aiden is behind the counter to their left, looking busy with some paperwork – Louis knows him well enough to know he is just eavesdropping. “That’s insane, mate.”

“No, I know, I…I told him it was.” Harry chuckles, but it’s humourless. Tired, even. “He’s been getting better.”

Louis licks a drop of tea off his lower lip and shrugs nonchalantly, placing the cup on the arm of the chair. “Alright, Curly. Whatever you say.”

Harry stretches out in the chair, yawning for a short moment, then his eyes land on the expensive-looking watch on his arm. Louis had already teased him for it, but Harry just rolled his eyes.

“Ah, bollocks,” he pouts. “I’ve got to get going. Have a body to dissect.”

Louis scrunches his nose up in an attempt to look disgusted, but he is fighting back a chuckle. “Mhm. Sounds fun.”

Harry grins, holding out a hand for Louis to take. The older male rolls his eyes fondly, resting his palm on Harry’s bigger, stretched out one.

“What?”

“C’mere.”

“What? No. You come here.”

Harry chuckles, intertwining their fingers; his hand is so big, is the thing. Louis likes how it seems to swallow his smaller one in one go. “Don’t be difficult, Lou.”

“I am not.” He finally gives in, standing from his chair and walking the short steps to Harry’s side. Louis tries hard to keep a straight face when Harry pulls him into his lap, but Harry is warm and he is comfortable, and Louis just finds himself curling up on top of him, snaking one arm around his neck. “You know, I don’t just go around sitting on boys’ laps like this. No matter how pretty they are.”

Harry grins, pressing a soft kiss to Louis’ jaw. Blue eyes flutter shut, and Louis will deny it if ever brought up, but he sighs happily.

“I’m just a lucky chap, then.”

“You are.”

Harry’s arm around Louis’ waist is tight and warm, and he is digging under his sweater, thumbs touching Louis’ lower abs. “I know.” He breathes out softly, angling his head to suck Louis’ lips into a kiss. It’s sweet and gentle, slow teases of tongue, soft breaths, tiny, tiny moans. Louis angles his hips just a bit and he can feel the thickening length of Harry’s cock under him, and it’s fucking incredible, it really is, but then they’re startled by a loud thud, and they break apart.

“Sorry,” Aiden calls from behind the counter, raising a stack of heavy books from the counter. “Dunno what’s wrong with my hands today.”

Louis squints his eyes at him before he turns to Harry. Harry, who is all glassy eyes and parted swollen lips, flushed cheeks. Harry, who is still thick under Louis’ arse, and who hasn’t released his grip around his waist.

“I…I really have to go.” He looks and sounds _pained_ to say that. Louis can relate. “Maybe we can see each other later?”

Louis grimaces a bit, standing from his lap. He tries not to stare too obviously when Harry tugs a hand over his bulge, adjusting himself. “Can’t do, Harold, sorry. My little sister’s birthday is tonight and I’ve got to drive all the way to Donny after lunch to get there in time for the party.”

Harry pouts again, but he replaces it with a wide smile quickly enough, standing from the chair. “Alright, have a great time, then.” He places one hand on each of Louis’ scruffy cheeks and pecks his lips one, two, three times before he lingers on a fourth and lets go. “Text me later?”

If Louis is slightly dizzy, then no one has to know.

“Yes, sure.”

Harry smiles again, _dimplesdimplesdimples_ , and he turns around, heading to the front. He picks his jacket from the hanger, shrugs it on, and waves. “Bye, Lou! Bye, Aiden.”

Aiden just hums a “bye” and Louis stares at the front door long after Harry’s left, a stupid smile on his face. He is so fucked.

“You look like an imbecile, boss.” Aiden walks past him, a stack of books in his arms. He doesn’t sound like he is teasing, though, so Louis turns to him with a frown.

“Excuse me?”

“You,” Aiden places one book after the other in one of the shelves. “You look ridiculous. That’s…that’s silly, you and Harry.”

Louis crosses his arm over his chest. “I beg your unbelievable pardon, Aiden?”

“No, I’m sorry, it’s just…I call it like I see it. You and Harry are too different, is all.”

Louis rolls his eyes, gives Aiden the middle finger and walks past him to go to the back room. A nap is in order. He is not going to think about Aiden’s stupid words, thank you very much. He is not.

**.**

“Louis, who is Harry?”

Louis’ head snaps back to fast he is actually afraid he’s pulled a muscle. Phoebe is playing with his phone, sitting at the far end of the large couch in the Deakin’s house, and he was so distracted teasing Lottie about her new hair colour that he didn’t even think to say no when his younger sister asked for it.

“Oh, _Harry_. Who is Harry?” Lottie gives him a knowing grin, reaching for the phone in Phoebe’s hand before Louis can even move. “How’s the party going,” she reads out loud. Louis is positive his face is going to burst. “I’m in bed, thinking ab- Hey!”

Louis snatches the phone away from her, locks the screen and shoves it in his pocket, pointedly avoiding everyone’s eyes.

“Is Harry your boyfriend, Lou?” Felicite asks with a wide grin – she looks too much like his mum, and Louis can’t help but smile back, before he realizes what she has just asked and he frowns.

“Harry is not my boyfriend.”

“He is not?” It’s Daisy now, crawling on the top of Louis’ lap with enquiring eyes. God, he loves his siblings more than life itself, but sometimes they’re just so…annoying.

“No, he is not.”

“Why is he asking about the party, then? And _lying in bed, thinking about you_?” Lottie echoes Harry’s text with a knowing grin.

“He is a friend.”

“Do all of your friends lie in bed thinking about you?” Phoebe grins back and, honestly, Louis would probably be proud – his baby sisters are such little shits, so much like him – but his face is hot and the collar of his shirt is suddenly too tight.

“Alright, alright, knock it off, all of you.” His saint of a mother finally appears, poking Daisy off Louis’ lap and sitting beside him herself. She sneaks an arm around his shoulders and kisses the top of his head, and Louis can hear Lottie snickering a “Mumma’s boy”, but he relaxes nonetheless. He is a mumma’s boy, thank you very much. “So…”

_Ah, come on._

“When are we going to meet Harry?” Jay asks with a knowing grin, and Louis rolls his eyes, all of his sisters laughing around him.

It could be a lot worse.

**.**

Harry is so bloody fit, is the thing. He is all long limbs, big arms, tight abs, insanely broad shoulders and his bum is small, albeit so perky and firm. He is laying half on top of Louis, a thigh between his legs, and they’re kissing like it’s the last thing they’ve got to do on Earth. Slow moves of tongue, suckling lips, tiny moans and huffs of air. Louis has one hand tucked in the back pocket of Harry’s jeans, squeezing his bum, and the other is tangled in his wild curls. Harry has both hands under Louis’ shirt, scratching down his stomach, pinching his sides lightly, pulling him closer, closer, closer.

Louis has always thought this couch was big – he has never felt it to be so _small_.

“I…I missed you,” Harry breathes out in between kisses, sucking Louis’ bottom lip.

“You did?”

“Yeah. It’s…been…too long.”

In all honesty, it hasn’t been _that_ long. It’s Thursday and they haven’t seen each other since Tuesday morning – Harry’s been busy with classes the past couple of days, and Louis didn’t actually come back from Doncaster until Wednesday night – and it feels silly to think it’s been too long when they haven’t known each other for longer than a week and a couple of days, but.

But it has been.

Louis felt it too.

“I know.” It’s what he says against Harry’s mouth, moaning out softly when Harry moves his lips to suck on his pulse point.

It’s the middle of the afternoon, and Louis _knows_ it’s busy outside. He can hear costumers talking, Aiden’s bright laugh filling the room while he tries to juggle everything. Louis knows he should be outside working, but…fucking hell. When Harry showed up one hour ago, a pout on his face and a bag of muffins in his hand, Louis melted.

He melted, dragged him to the back room, removed the bloody pink plaid shirt Harry had over a black t-shirt, and pulled Harry on top of him. They haven’t moved from this spot since.

Louis’ fingers dig into his backside softly, pulling him closer and _fuck_. Yes, that’s perfect. The thick hardness in Harry’s jeans rubs right against his own obvious erection, and the friction is incredible. He is never leaving this spot.

“Ah,” Harry cries out softly, jutting his hips up again. Louis feels himself going cross-eyed with how close Harry’s face is to his, hovering above him like he was going for a kiss but stopped when he realized it could be better than that.

“You’re so fit,” Louis groans, lifting his head and attaching his mouth to the column of Harry’s throat. He sucks a bruise there, soothes the ache with his tongue, and drags his lips to Harry’s again.

He smells so _good_ , like faint cologne and boyish scent. Like a musky after-shave, and…marshmallows? He thinks it’s coming from Harry’s hair and he is definitely asking later, when they’re not so busy.

Harry is moving against him, rubbing their crotches in circular motions, and Louis thinks he could really come just like that. He tightens his hand in Harry’s hair and the younger lad groans; Louis promptly swallows his moan with a deep kiss, and it’s so perfect.

He could come like this.

He is going to come like this.

Harry is perfect, Harry is a bloody angel, he is incredible, he is…he is…

“Lou!” It’s not Harry crying out his name. It’s Aiden, barging in the back room with his arms crossed over his chest. Louis breaks the kiss just in time to see Aiden’s face torn between anger and…hurt?

“Yeah?” Louis’ voice is raspy, weak. Harry is hiding his face in his neck, giving him small soft kisses, and Louis finds himself giggling softly, pinching Harry’s bum. “Stop it, Harold.”

“Yes, stop it, _Harold_ ,” Aiden bites back. Okay, this is getting weird. Harry rolls off to the side, squeezing himself in between Louis and the cushions, and Louis sits up just a bit. “Louis, the store is packed. Tourists and whatnot. I am aware you’re my boss, but if you could _please_ come and help, that’d be fantastic.”

Louis tries to ignore the bite in his tone, especially because he knew the store was packed when he dragged Harry into the backroom. It’s his fault, really. The older male sits up and fixes his t-shirt over his torso, failing to not notice the pink angry marks that Harry’s nails left on his skin. He looks over his shoulder and gives Harry an apologetic smile.

Harry is up before Louis has to say anything else, shrugging on his plaid shirt and smoothing his hands over the wrinkles of his black t-shirt. Aiden has already left the room, but not before shooting Louis a look of disapproval. What the fuck ever. Louis hates Aiden right now – not really, but. He almost does.

“Hey, I’m really sorry…” Louis starts, but Harry is already shaking his head, reaching for him. He wraps his arms around Louis’ neck and pulls him into a much more chaste kiss than the one they were sharing minutes earlier.

“Don’t worry about it, Lou. You’ve got to work.” Harry sounds so sincere that it’s almost impossible for Louis to be angry at Aiden anymore. _Almost._ “I’m sorry for keeping you.”

“No, I…I really liked it.” His arm is tight around Harry’s waist, an easy smile on his face. Louis doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt this light. “Hey, what are you doing tomorrow night?”

Harry’s eyebrows knitted together for a moment, probably going through a list of obligations he had or summat, and then he relaxed into a smile.

“Nothing, why?”

“My roommate, um, Niall…I told you about him?” Harry nods. “Well, he is a musician, and he plays small gigs and stuff. He is playing at this place downtown, and…I thought…”

“I’d love to come.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely, Lou.” Harry grins, pecking his lips again. Louis squeezes his sides softly, and nods.

“Okay, perfect. I’ll pick you up around nine?”

Harry’s nose scrunches up a bit, and he tightens his arm around Louis’ neck. “No, I…there is this thing I have to do first? But then I’ll get a cab over there, if you just give me the address.”

“Oh. Okay, yeah. That’s great.”

Harry smiles again, a beaming wide one, and Louis can’t help but return it with just as much gusto.

“Louis! Honestly, mate.” He hears Aiden call out from outside, and he sighs. This time, Harry sighs as well, but he covers it with a yawn.

“I’ve got to go, anyway. I’m so exhausted, a nap is much needed.” He giggles like a small child, snorting at the end, and Louis just squeezes him close.

“Okay.”

“Great.”

“Bye.”

“I’m going.”

“Mhm.”

“Yes, I…I’m going.”

“Louis!” It’s Aiden again. Fucking hell, Louis is going to have a word with him. He can’t _do_ that.

Harry smiles weakly and finally steps away from their hold, gesturing behind himself.

“Bye, Lou.”

He is walking away before Louis can try and stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, little loves! thank you so much for the kudos i've been getting so far. please comment your thoughts on the story so far. oh, i forgot to mention, but the title and the quote in the summary are from Troye Sivan's BLUE. it's an a wonderful song, and part of the playlist i have for this story. the other songs mentioned aren't necessarily related to the story, lyrics-wise, but they're songs i was listening to while writing. hopefully you'll like them as well. lots of love! x


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you so much for the kudos you've been leaving on this story, I really do appreciate it. No major warnings for this chapter, except for a sex scene, but I think you probably saw this coming? ;)

“Do you think he is coming?”

Niall rolls his eyes from across the seat, choosing to ignore Louis. Usually, Niall is the first to reassure his best friend and definitely _not_ ignore him, but it’s the fourth time in sixty minutes that Louis has asked him that, and it’s getting quite annoying.

“I know I’m being a pill, but he hasn’t…he didn’t text me today.”

“Did _you_ text him?” Niall raises an eyebrow, popping open a bottle of water and taking a sip. They’re sitting in the small room backstage, getting ready before Niall has to perform.

The place is not crowded, per say, but it’s definitely not lacking an audience. Niall holds a name around the folk crowd of London, and his gigs always have a good number of people watching. Louis is so proud – he feels silly admitting that, but he can’t believe how far he and Niall have come.

“No, but…he always texts first.”

Niall’s eye roll is so obvious that Louis kicks his shin, earning himself a loud cackle.

“Don’t be ridiculous, mate. You’re almost thirty, I think you can text your boyfriend first.”

Louis could correct Niall that Harry is _not_ his boyfriend, he could, but then Niall is kicking him out of the room, saying he needs to focus, and Louis finds himself standing in the middle of the crowd again.

The pub is nowhere as packed and reeking of alcohol as the one Harry had invited him to the other night, but it’s still a pub, and there are still people drinking all around him. He is fine, he truly is – he just needs to remind himself a few times throughout the night that he is a survivor, and that he is strong.

A light tap on his shoulder brings him back to reality and he jumps a bit, turning to find Harry there. He smiles before he can’t stop himself, and he reaches for his arm, pulling him a bit closer.

“Harold, I was starting to think you weren’t going to come.”

Harry giggles and, while the sound is mostly muffled by the soft music around them, Louis beams at how adorable he looks right then.

“Nope, I would never. Just had to do that thing first.”

Louis nods, pulling him to the side so they’re not in the middle of the crowd anymore. Harry immediately places a hand on the wall behind Louis’ head and leans down to kiss him, light and soft, just a peck. It’s as wonderful as it’d be if they were full blown making out.

“You look fancy,” Louis points out after Harry pulls back. Harry is wearing tight dark jeans and black boots, a white button-down and a black blazer over it. His hair is pulled back, but there is no band or headscarf there this time around; Louis suspects there is actually some hair product in it, and he reaches up, touching his curls lightly. They’re still soft to the touch, but a bit stiff, and yes, definitely hair product. “Surely you didn’t dress up for me?”

Harry chuckles, a small shy grin on his plump rosy lips. He shakes his head, looking down at his feet. “Nah, not this time, I…my dad is in town?” He starts, and Louis nods for him to continue. “There was this dinner thing for his hospital, and…”

“Your dad owns a hospital?”

“No, not…not like he _owns_ it. He and my mum, they’re the biggest investors, but they’re not the only ones. It’s a smaller hospital, even, nothing too fancy or, like…they’re not _insanely_ rich, I don’t…”

“Harry.” Louis rests a hand on Harry’s forearm, trying to get his attention. “You don’t have to convince me you’re not loaded. I don’t care about that.”

 Harry lets out a soft whine, shaking his head. Louis just tugs him closer, pecking his lips again.

“I’m sorry you had to leave your dad’s party early.”

“Ha,” Harry actually snorts. “Trust me, I’m not missing anything. I’m right where I want to be.”

As if on cue, the lights dim and a big spotlight is on the small stage that Niall is due to perform on. Louis smiles and takes Harry’s hand, unable to resist intertwining their fingers. If the way Harry goes pliant under his touch and then squeezes their joint hands is anything to go by, he is fine with it.

“Don’t you want to be closer to the stage?”

Louis scrunches his nose up a bit, shaking his head. “No, it’s…there are more people there. More…um, drinks and stuff.”

A flash of realization crosses over Harry’s face just as Niall steps out, introducing himself to the crowd, waving to a few people he knows from past gigs. Louis eyes Harry for a short moment.

“Does that bother you? Do you want to go to the front? Because I can handle it, Harry, honestly…”

“No. No, I’m great here. Brilliant, even.” Again, he is so bloody _sincere_ – Louis wonders if he will ever get used to that. Probably not.

“Okay.”

Niall starts singing, one of his own compositions, and Louis hums along happily. He is so very proud of his best friend. Harry lets go of Louis’ hand, but before he can ask, strong arms are around his waist, a chin resting on his shoulder. Harry is comfortable, warm, Niall’s voice is beautiful – he could fall asleep like this.

“He is very good,” Harry hums in his ear, and Louis smiles.

“He is great. He deserves every bit of success he is getting.”

Harry nods but doesn’t say anything further. Louis is holding onto Harry’s forearms and Harry is nuzzling against his back, and people are cheering for Niall, singing along with the lyrics to a song.

Louis thinks it can’t get much better than this.

**.**

Niall’s set has just ended and everyone is cheering, clapping excitedly. Louis finds himself cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting “Take me home!”, to which Harry _cackles_ because, “I get it! Because he is your roommate!”. Louis thinks he is going to keep him around.

A few people Louis knows have stopped by to say hello, shook both his and Harry’s hand, but asked no questions. Louis hangs out with the right people.

Well. He hangs out with one wrong person.

Nick-bloody-Grimshaw.

“Well, Tommo, are you going to introduce your boy or not?” It’s the first thing he says, smile wide and an almighty look on his ridiculously pointy face. Louis loves Nick, they go way back and he’s been a great friend when times were rough. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to smack him upside the head now.

“Um, yes, sure. This is Harry.” He gestures behind himself, pouting when Harry lets go of his waist only to shake Nick’s hand. “And this is Nick. There, you got your introduction, go away.”

Nick cackles, sucking the rim of his beer bottle with a sip. Louis feels Harry tense behind him, but he is fine. He would definitely not be fine if there were dozens of people around him doing just that, if the smell was too strong, if Harry’s presence wasn’t so soothing. He is fine.

“Good luck with that one, Harry. He is a tad bit snippy, if you know what I mean.”

Louis raises an eyebrow, and Harry chuckles behind him, tightening both arms around him again.

“I like him like that.”

 _I like him_. Louis feels his chest tighten, but it’s not something bad for once.

Nick glances at Louis, raising his eyebrows with a knowing smirk. He takes another sip of his beer and bows his head. “I like him, Tommo. Keep him around.”

 _I plan to_ is what Louis doesn’t say, but then Nick is walking away, and he relaxes into Harry’s arms. Harry places a soft kiss against the side of his scruffy cheek and Louis snorts.

“Nick is a weirdo,” he says, making Harry chuckle. “Ignore him.”

They don’t have much more time to talk because Louis recognizes the head of blonde hair amongst the crowd, meaning Niall is talking to the audience and their friends, so he pulls Harry by the hand towards that.

“Come on. I want you to meet Niall.”

**.**

Louis had a feeling Niall and Harry would get along – they’re both easy-going, smiley, love a good joke and stuff – but he didn’t expect them to get along so fast, however.

They’re sitting around a table, the three of them plus some of Niall’s friends and a bird he’s been shagging lately. Louis’ got his arm over Harry’s shoulders again and it’s comfortable, easy, fun.

“And your guitar? So sick! Is that a Les Paul?”

Niall clutches a hand over his heart, looking from Harry to Louis with a wide smile. “Yeah, mate. Do you play?”

Harry shrugs one shoulder, “A little.”

Okay, Louis didn’t know that – he supposes there is a lot they don’t know about each other, and he is strangely certain that there’s going to be a lot of time for that. Niall gives him a pointed look and Louis smiles, sly and even a bit shy, looking down at his lap.

“He is a good one, Lou. You should keep him.”

Louis rolls his eyes, squeezing Harry’s shoulder. “Why is everyone telling me that tonight? I _know_ that.”

Harry giggles and his cheeks flush and Louis is overwhelmed with how much he wants to kiss him. That’d probably be awkward, in front of everyone and all, so he doesn’t. He just nuzzles his scruffy chin over the bare skin of Harry’s neck and enjoys the way he shudders lightly under his arm. Niall rolls his eyes and turn to another conversation, leaving the two of them to each other.

 “Hey.” Is what Harry says, soft and low enough that only Louis can hear him. He has his face turned to Louis’ and he is smiling small, softly, green eyes twinkling under the artificial light. Louis wants to kiss him.

“Hi.”

Harry runs his tongue over his bottom lip, licking the taste of his lemonade off of it. Louis’ eyes follow the movement and his grin is lazy, dirty, wanting. Harry’s eyes meet his and his smile matches Louis’.

“Do you want to go for a drive with me?” Louis asks, squeezing Harry’s shoulder. He looks extremely broad in that white button-down, his blazer sitting on both of their laps now.

Harry smiles, looking down for just a moment before his eyes shoot up again. “Yes, sure.”

Louis reaches for his wallet, pulling out a few bills to pay for their drinks – and positively ignoring Harry when he tried to do the same.

“We’ve got to get going,” Louis stands up, offering Harry a hand that he promptly takes. “Nialler, your gig was amazing, lad. As usual.”

Niall nods his head once, a knowing smirk on his face. “Yes, sure. See you two back home?”

“Of course,” Louis answers before he can catch up to what Niall actually meant. He shoots him a warning look and drags Harry away as they all laugh, _Harry_ included. “That was not funny!”

Harry’s giggles prove that he thinks otherwise. “It was, a little bit.”

Louis rolls his eyes, but it’s pure and fond, and he doesn’t really care that Harry and his friends are laughing at him. He continues to pull him to the door and they’re out of the pub soon, the chilly breeze making Louis pull Harry closer. He is always warm, that’s all.

Harry’s hand squeezes his, pulls him closer and Louis smiles softly, just because he knows Harry wants him close as much as he does. It’s a tad bit scary, is the thing – It’s all going too fast, too soon – but he is not going to let that get in his way now.

“My car is just over there.” Louis mentions as he pulls Harry in the direction of the car. The taller lad just hums, following without a second question.

“I noticed Niall doesn’t drink alcohol.” Harry says once they’re steps away from Louis’ vehicle. It’s not a question, but it feels like one – Louis is not bothered, though.

“He doesn’t.”

“Is it…is he?”

“No. He… His family, they have history of alcoholism. He lost his uncle and almost lost his father to it, as well. Let’s just say he didn’t want to try his hand and mess with fate,” Louis snorts but there is no humour behind it. He unlocks the car, but makes no move to actually get in. “That’s how we met. I was in my lowest when he found me and he was starting as one of the AA counsellors. Young as shit, as scared about life as I was, but he held my hand through it all. He wanted to save me so badly that I ended up wanting to save myself.”

Louis doesn’t even realize how tight he’d been squeezing Harry’s hand until Harry squeezes back. He doesn’t seem to mind. There is a hint of something in Harry’s eye that Louis hasn’t seen in a lot of people, and he knows for sure it’s not pity. Louis feels himself relax.

“I would like to hear your story one day, Louis. If you’ll let me. Whenever you want. Whatever you want to share.”

“Yeah. Someday.”

Louis smiles weakly and the promises doesn’t feel so heavy anymore – someday, Harry would like to hear his story. He will tell him.

Harry clears his throat and lifts Louis’ hand to his lips, kissing over his knuckles so softly that it feels like it barely happened.

“Well, I was promised a ride. Where are you taking me?”

**.**

Ride – Lana Del Rey

“Slow the fuck down!” Harry squeals, laughing so hard that he can’t actually breathe. The windows are down and his hair is flying all around his face, green eyes twinkling with happiness, smile stretched widely. Louis doesn’t dare to look at him much, he is driving quite fast for that, but whenever he steals a glance, Harry looks like the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. It’s as unsettling as it is marvellous.

“Are you scared?”

There is a thrill in Louis’ voice when he steps on the pedal once more, making his car race _faster_. Back when he was still struggling with his recovery, when Louis was looking for any kind of release, he would drive. Drive, drive, drive – fast, slow, anywhere, nowhere. He would drive until the Sun came up and he was so tired that he didn’t even think that much about alcohol as he fell into bed.

It was never dangerous, he’d been too concerned with his own well-being at the time (After he’d made a promise to save himself, that is) to try anything crazy, but the thrill of it was…fascinating. Distracting.

Within the last half an hour he’d been driving around with Harry, Louis realized that maybe this wouldn’t even be about distraction anymore. It’d be about fun – Harry was laughing too brightly, squeezing the seatbelt across his chest tightly, squealing whenever Louis sped up. It was ridiculously endearing, and whenever Louis went in one of his crazy midnight drives again, he would think back to _that_.

Not to the thirst burning his throat or the way his stomach turned whenever he drove past one of the pubs he used to visit. He would think about happiness, about freedom.

As he drives faster, Harry is all Louis can think about, his wild curls flying around, his loud laughter, his deep voice _squealing_ whenever Louis takes a sharp turn.

“I’m not scared, Louis!” Harry squeals back, and Louis trusts him on that, because so far, Harry’s been nothing if not honest.

“Well, what is it?” Louis finally slows down, taking a turn in a darker street. They’re far away from the pub now, even further from Harry’s campus, but not that far from Louis’ flat. It wasn’t a planned move – it really, really wasn’t – but Louis isn’t bothered. “Are you going soft on me?”

Harry giggles, shaking his head and reaching for Louis’ hand. They’re driving smoothly slow now, just feeling the gentle breeze on their faces – it’s quite nice. Harry brings Louis’ hand to his side, the front of his tight jeans and…oh. Not soft.

“Quite the opposite,” Harry says cheekily, flicking his tongue. Louis wants to smack him as much as he wants to kiss him stupid.

“I…I feel that.” He closes his hand around the shape of Harry’s length, thick and long, pressed against the rough fabric of his jeans. He gives a tentative squeeze and Harry cries out. “Had no idea you had that in you, Harry.”

“W-What?” He squeaks out, eyes fluttering shut and hips jutting up to Louis’ teasing palm. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t know this would turn you on.”

“Well, I didn’t know e-either, but it’s done.” Harry’s scowl turns into a grin when Louis squeezes him again. Fuck, he is _so_ hard – Louis can already feel himself filling up in his own jeans.

“Do you…do you maybe want to go somewhere?”

“Fuck, yes.”

The eagerness in Harry’s voice makes Louis dizzy for a short second, but then he is removing his hand from Harry’s crotch and speeding up the car in the direction of his flat. Niall won’t be home for hours, if at all that night, and Louis rarely takes men home – he prefers to go over to their place, and even so, it’s been too long since there was anyone other than…Aiden.

He finds himself driving to his building, though, not one doubt in mind. He doesn’t take men home, but Harry is…Harry is Harry. Harry is not a quick shag before things get awkward when a bloke wants to take him dancing and he can’t drink a fancy, expensive drink. Harry is not one of the AA members that Niall – bless his heart – introduces him every now and then, that are usually great, great people but just make him feel like he’s stuck in the past. Harry is incredible, Harry is different, and Louis wants to take him home.

**.**

“It’s a great flat, Lou.” Is what Harry first says once Louis unlocks the door and steps aside for him to come in. There’s a cleaning lady that stops by once a week, and Louis is so, so grateful that this morning she came over. The flat is clean, albeit still cozy and lived in, and he smiles softly when Harry looks around, drinking in every aspect of it.

“It’s alright.”

“No, it’s really great. Lots of windows. Spaced out. I like it.”

Louis shrugs one shoulder, but says nothing else. He isn’t sure what to say to that. The flat is alright, but it’s too full of memories. The only reason why he hasn’t left the place is because Niall lives there with him.

“Oh, who is _that_ little fluff ball?” Harry coos from the other side of the room, kneeling down to Frida’s level and stretching a hand out for her. The cat stares at him for a good, long moment before she closes the distance between them, rubbing her white furry head against his hand. The grin on Harry’s face is so…lovely that Louis feels the need to sit down on the large couch they have in the living room.

“You’re _good_ , Styles.” Louis comments with a knowing smirk, shaking his head with pure amusement when Harry picks Frida up in his arms as if they’d known each other for ages. “She doesn’t like a lot of people.”

As if on cue, Frida _purrs_ in Harry’s arms, his long fingers petting her easily. Louis feels betrayed, but he can’t control the fond smile on his face.

“She doesn’t? I find that very hard to believe,” Harry giggles, sitting down next to Louis on the couch. He looks comfortable, not one bit out of place – Louis wonders briefly if Harry _ever_ feels out of place.

“She doesn’t, I swear. She was a stray. Picked her up when she was just a tiny, tiny thing. So skinny and weak that you wouldn’t believe,” Louis reaches out to pet Frida’s head. “As you can see, she’s gained a few pounds since then.”

Harry chuckles, the sound warm and sweet like…like honey. Louis suddenly craves honey, and he has never been a fan up until this moment.

“I think she is lovely. The most beautiful girl ever. What’s her name?”

“Frida.”

“Like the artist?”

Louis smirks, knocking against his head and giving Harry a sly grin. “Ten points for Hufflepuff!”

Harry’s eyes widen before he bursts into a fit of giggles. Frida jumps off his lap – as smitten as she is, she has no time for their human crap – and starts chasing a fly around the room.

“Did you just make a Harry Potter reference?”

He is giggling again, face flushed, eyes bright. _I could love you_ , Louis thinks and immediately slaps himself mentally. _What the hell? Get a grip._

“Oi, what’s the issue? I love Harry Potter!” He defends, smiling weakly at Harry. His mind is still fuzzy with the realization of what he thought.

“No, not an issue. I do too.” Harry grins, reaching out for Louis’ hand and pulling him closer; if Louis is hiding a grin himself, no one has to know. “How do you know I’m a Hufflepuff? I could be a Slytherin.”

Louis scoffs, wrapping one arm around Harry’s waist, grinning just a tiny bit when he lifts both of his long legs to rest on top of Louis’ lap.

“ _Please_. You’re a Hufflepuff. Gryffindor at best.” He chuckles when Harry flicks his ear, but he doesn’t miss the way his lips curl up. “Well, am I wrong?”

Harry scoots up and now he is sitting on Louis’ lap. He is all long limbs and broad shoulders, but the way he curls into himself, it makes him…smaller. Cuddlier. Louis is torn between wanting to wreck him and kiss him softly.

“No, not really. What are you?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Louis grins, raising an eyebrow. “Slytherin, thank you very much. Proudly so.”

“Of course you are.” Harry giggles, no bite in his words whatsoever. He turns his face into Louis’ neck and just breathes in his scent for a second, letting the tip of his nose run through his scruff. Louis finds that oddly attractive, and he tightens his arms around Harry’s waist.

“What are you doing?”

Harry doesn’t reply. He places a kiss below Louis’ ear, sucking a bit on the skin there – and fuck, Louis has never even liked love bites, he usually finds them tacky and annoying and…why is he getting hard over this?

“You smell good,” is what Harry says after a while, soothing the ache of his bite with his tongue and lips. Louis shudders and he can almost feel Harry’s grin growing against his skin. “Really, really good.”

“I do?”

“Yeah.”

Louis turns his head to the side, giving Harry more room on his neck. “Like what?”

Harry seems to consider his question for a long moment – a moment in which Louis traces his right hand under the back of Harry’s button down, lightly touching the fluttering muscles of his lower back.

“Like…like man? Manly.” Harry stutters for a moment, kissing Louis’ neck as if trying to affect him just as much. Louis doubts he can’t feel how hard he already is, what with sitting on his lap and all, but he lets Harry attack his neck without another word. “It’s different. A good different.”

“How so?” Louis squeezes the tiny bit of baby fat on Harry’s hip, then lets his hand drop lower, lower, until he squeezing the side of his perky bum. Harry all but moans on top of him, and fuck. Fucking hell.

“Don’t get me wrong, I hate to…to put other people down, and…” He clears his throat. “It’s just…different? No tacky cologne or reeking of Axe, like most guys my age. It’s hot.”

Louis lifts his gaze up to meet Harry’s eyes and finds that he was already looking at him. He smirks, dirty and knowing, and Harry bites down on his plush bottom lip so hard that Louis’ mouth waters. He reaches for his chin and tugs his bottom lip out of Harry’s hold, and then his mouth is on his, claiming, wanting, needy.

Harry releases a tiny moan in their kiss, tongue sneaking out to trace against Louis, lips sucking and…and, fuck. He starts grinding on Louis’ lap, wrapping both arms around his neck, deepening their kiss. Louis is faintly aware that he has yet to show Harry around the apartment, but what the fuck ever, he doesn’t care right now. He squeezes Harry’s bum again and relishes in the way Harry seems to _melt_.

“Do you…maybe…want to…go to my bedroom?” Louis manages to say between kisses, cursing under his breath when Harry grinds down just right.

Harry is up before he can say anything more, reaching out for Louis’ hand and tugging him up. “Yes, yes, please.”

Louis kisses him again, walking them blindly down the corridor to his bedroom. He hopes to God they don’t step on Frida or bump into any furniture, because that’d be embarrassing, but he can’t be bothered to break the kiss right now.

Harry is panting, _whining_ , grinding against Louis. He has both arms tight around his neck, one tugging in Louis’ hair, pulling him closer, closer, closer. All Louis can do is comply.

With only one bumping incident (His hip is going to be bruised tomorrow, he knows that already), they manage to get in Louis’ bedroom. He breaks the kiss only so he can turn Harry around, arm still tight around his waist, pulling him flush against his body. Harry melts into his touch, and Louis starts kissing the back of his neck, the side of it, while trying to unbutton Harry’s shirt.

“Oh, cool!” Harry turns his head to the side, giving Louis more access to his neck. He sounds as breathless and as fucked out as Louis feels. “You have a balcony.”

Louis snorts, finishing the last button of Harry’s shirt and tugging it off, grinning when Harry shakes his hands out to get rid of the shirt as if it was _burning_ his skin. Maybe it was. Harry is so warm and now there is so, so much creamy skin exposed that Louis feels positively dizzy.

“You’re so bloody fit,” he murmurs, kissing Harry’s shoulder blade, then the other, his hands squeezing his hips. He continues kissing down his back until Harry is leaning forward, hands grasping on air, trying to hold on to something. “Fuck.”

“Lou, _please_.” Harry whines, turning in his arms, kissing Louis’ lips desperately, walking backwards until his knees hit the edge of the bed and they fall on top of it. Louis is straddling Harry’s hips now, kissing him with so much force and desire and _need_ that Harry can’t do nothing but take it. Kiss him back, moan, grind up against him.

“What do you want?” Louis asks, sitting up on his lap, already removing his own shirt off. Harry’s eyes trace the movement, his lips parted, breathing sped up. He reaches up and touches the tattoo across Louis’ collarbones, tracing the words with his fingertips.

 _It is what it is._ Louis can remember the exact moment he decided to get the tattoo – when it had all been too much and he had accepted that he would never be okay again. He was sick and he was going to die because of it.

He had been so, so wrong. Niall came into his life months after and changed it upside down.

“Harry, I asked you a question.” Louis calls out, his voice firm and husky in his throat. He can _see_ the way it makes Harry writhe on top of the navy sheets on his bed. “What do you want?”

“You.” It’s a small, whiny tone of voice but it makes Louis smile all the same. Maybe because of that.

“How do you want me?”

“I want you…inside. Please.”

Louis is nothing if not eager to please. He kisses Harry again, adjusting himself in between his legs and grips onto his hips, scooting them up the bed. Harry just melts, letting himself be manhandled without a moment of hesitation – it’s a bit surprising, all with Harry being taller and broader, but so, so pliant. Louis loves it.

“ _Lou_ ,” he moans, jutting his hips up, pressing their crotches together. Louis’ movements stutter for all of a moment before he is kissing down Harry’s chest, but this time it’s Harry who stops him. He reaches for Louis’ neck, urging him up into another kiss, and flips them over, hovering over him in the bed. Louis is about to open his mouth to ask, but then Harry starts kissing down his chest instead, fumbling with the button of his jeans, pushing them down his legs.

“Been dying to suck you off since the second I saw you,” he breaths right above Louis’ navel, tugging on the light reddish brown hair that leads the way into his black boxer briefs. Louis is hard and straining against the fabric of his underwear, and Harry groans at the sight, palming him easily.

“You have?”

“Mhm,” Harry smirks down at him, pulling the underwear low enough for his cock to spring out. He wastes absolutely no time before wrapping his lips around the engorged head, sucking the taste of pre-come off of it, lapping his tongue all around.

“Jesus Christ,” Louis hisses, fisting the sheets with his hand while the other goes straight into the wild mess of curls of Harry’s hair.

Harry only groans after the first tug, lowering his mouth on Louis’ thick length, taking him deep, deep, deep until the head nudges his throat and Louis _cries_ out because it’s heaven. It’s heaven and hell all at the same time.

“If you keep doing that I’m gonna come,” he warns Harry, and the bastard just grins around his girth, bobbing his head a few times, moving his tongue along with each movement of his head. “Harry, I swear…”

Harry licks around the head one more time before he sucks on it and pops his lips off, eyeing Louis with the most innocent of the eyes. Louis wants to tear him apart, right about now.

“You’re really thick,” Harry whispers against the skin of his stomach, kissing his way up until their lips meet again. He sucks on Louis’ lower lip and the older male growls, flipping them over again and standing from the bed so he can remove his clothes and shoes completely. Harry seems to pick up on the eagerness because he does the same, kicking his boots and jeans off the bed, not caring one bit where they land. “Come here. Please.”

Louis is eager to comply, crawling between Harry’s legs again, curling a hand around his cock through his underwear, moving up and down in slow, teasing strokes of hand. Harry seems to have gone slack under his body, eyes fluttered shut and lips parted in a perfect ‘O’ shape. Louis wants to kiss him, so he does.

“Pretty, so, so pretty,” he coos and Harry whines. “I’m gonna get you ready for me, yeah?”

If Harry is against the idea, he doesn’t say it, just thrusts his hips into the air out of impulse when Louis is off of him.

The thing about not bringing men home is that Louis is not expecting to get laid in this bed, so after a quick check in the top drawer of his nightstand, he realizes he doesn’t have any lube or condoms there.

“Fuck, just…just wait here.”

He crawls off the bed, naked from head to toe, chooses to ignore Harry’s low whistle (Harry is an idiot, and he is so fucking _fond_ ) and heads inside his closet, searching through a few drawers there before he finds what he’s looking for.

He tosses the nearly full bottle of lube and the condoms on the mattress, nudging his hips between Harry’s legs again.

“Now _that’s_ a bum.” Harry says cheekily, giggling when Louis smacks his thigh playfully and starts pulling down his boxer briefs. Harry’s laughter dies in his throat when his cock smacks against his stomach, and he cries out just a tiny bit when Louis’ hand wraps around it. “ _Lou_.”

“Not so chatty now, are you?” Louis tries to go for teasing but it ends up falling on a darker, lower tone. Harry’s cock twitches in his hand and he makes a mental note to explore _that_ later. “You have the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.”

Harry snorts, shaking his head, burrowing his face into the pillow. Louis’ free hand reaches for his chin and forces his face back to his, blue eyes meeting green.

“Don’t be shy. I love it.”

Harry is already leaking pre-cum against Louis’ palm and he uses that as lube, making his movements slicker, faster. When Harry cries out loudly, he removes his hand and reaches for the lube, fumbling it open and coating his fingers with a generous amount of it.

Harry’s thighs spread on instinct, so bloody pliant that Louis could cry, and the older male pressed the tip of his finger over his rim in a teasing stroke, waiting until Harry is fully relaxed before he presses it inside. Harry just whines, a soft sound that comes close to an actual purr, and Louis pushes it deeper to the knuckle, moving it in and out of him slowly.

“You’re so fucking tight.” Louis breathes against Harry’s lips, pecking them once, twice, a third time. Harry smiles weakly.

“It’s…been a while since I’ve…you know.”

Oh. That’s…okay. Harry is young, unbelievably attractive, rich and smart so Louis is surprised he is beating people off of him with a bloody stick. Then again, he probably is, he is just not taking action on what happens. Louis is definitely curious as to why, but he doesn’t let it show.

“I’ll make sure you won’t hurt, okay?”

Harry just nods, licking his rosy lips with want, spreading his thighs wider. Louis presses a second finger inside, slow but firmly, scissoring them inside of Harry for a second or two before he starts pumping.

“Ah, fuck,” Harry cries out, head thrown back when Louis nudges his prostate, mouth falling open. “Fuck, do that again.”

Louis smirks, angling his fingers to do just that, quickening the pace of his thrusts. Harry looks so beautiful like that, it’s insane.

“I’m gonna add another, okay?” He asks softly, kissing Harry’s lips again. The younger lad just nods, lifting his hips to accommodate Louis’ fingers when he adds a third. Louis finds more resistance this time around, but Harry is still pliant and eager under him, taking whatever Louis wants to give him, and he doesn’t seem to mind the burn that it’s there for sure. “Still good?”

“So good, so good,” Harry replies quickly, as if he’s afraid Louis is going to stop. Louis pumps them in and out until he feels the give of Harry’s muscles around him, still tight but not enough that it’s going to hurt him. He pecks his lips again, angling his fingers to nudge Harry’s spot one last time, and pulls his fingers out. “You ready for me?”

Harry sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, looking up at Louis with wide green eyes, his pupils positively blown out with lust. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he coos, more to himself than to Harry, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he’s got the most beautiful man he’s ever seen in his life, lying in _his_ bed, spread open for _him_.

Louis reaches for the condom, ripping it open with his teeth, and rolls it down his length, adding a few drops of lube over his erection to make sure Harry doesn’t get hurt. He is momentarily distracted by the slick heat of his own hand, but Harry lets out a soft whine, eyes glued to Louis’ mid-section, and he remembers he’s got a job to do.

An incredible job.

Best job he’s ever had, if he’s being honest.

He adjusts himself in between Harry’s thighs, sucking his lips in a short, but sweet kiss.

“Do you…do you want it like this?”

Harry mutters a “Yes” that comes close to a moan, and Louis nods, guiding his cock to his rim, gently pushing it inside.

“Ah, fuck.” Harry whispers, eyes squeezed shut. He doesn’t look like he is in pain, _at all_ , so Louis just grins, pushing another inch inside slowly. “Fuck, please, oh.”

Louis kisses Harry’s lips again, swallowing his moan as he slides all the way inside, his hips flush to Harry’s. There is something to be said about kissing Harry when they’re so close like this, about how Harry clings onto him, short nails digging into his shoulders, about how he whines softly when Louis grabs onto his hips and starts moving inside of him.

He starts with shallow thrusts, slow but sure, and Harry just can’t _breathe_ so he breaks the kiss and presses their foreheads together.

“F-Faster,” Harry cries out.

Louis complies, snapping his hips back and thrusting back inside with a bit more force, angling his hips just right to nudge Harry’s prostate, and Harry moves his hips along with him, meeting his thrusts. It’s a perfect dance, mixed with their moans and pants and Harry’s occasional cry out for “more”, and before Louis realizes it, he is giving it to him hard, fast, kneeling between his legs and lifting one of Harry’s legs over his shoulder.

“Fuck!” Harry _screams_ , head thrown back, fisting the sheets. His other hand reaches for the headboard, but it’s banging too much, too often against the wall, and he won’t find stability there, so he reaches for Louis’ bum instead, pulling him closer if it was even possible.

Louis is just as torn, biting on his lip so hard he is sure the skin is one sharp tug from breaking, breathing heavily through his nose, watching Harry falling apart under him with heavy eyelids. He wants to close them so bad but he also doesn’t want to miss one second of this.

Harry looks so beautiful he could write poems about him.

“Lou, I’m gonna…fuck, I’m gonna come…”

Louis reaches for Harry’s neglected cock, the skin at the tip flushed an angry red, resting against his stomach along drops and drops of pre-come. He gives him one, two sharp tugs and Harry is falling over the edge, screaming Louis’ name like it’s the only word he’s ever learned to speak.

Louis doesn’t need more than that to follow suit, spilling inside the condom and collapsing on top of Harry, their chests heaving against one another as they try to catch their breaths.

“Bloody hell,” is Harry who says it this time.

“I know.”

**.**

Louis wakes up at three in the morning. His mum always told him that nothing good happens at three in the morning – he has no idea why, _mum stuff_ – but he finds Harry asleep next to him, and he doubts that’s true.

He is lying on his stomach, face pressed against the pillow, facing Louis. His hair is a wild mess of curls and Louis bets that if he reaches out, he will find them to be still a little bit damp from their shower hours prior. Harry’s lips are parted open just a bit, swollen and slightly bruised from their kisses, and he is positively drooling on Louis’ pillow. It shouldn’t be as endearing as it is.

Louis is also lying on his stomach, also facing Harry, and his right arm is resting across the younger lad’s back, exactly like it had been when they fell asleep, just whispering nonsense and giggling to each other.

His stomach turns and his heart starts beating a bit faster in his chest.

It’s scary. It’s real. It’s here.

 _I could love you_ , he thinks again. This time, there is no way to shut these thoughts off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, hi! hopefully you liked this chapter, please leave your comments and whatnot, i love to read some feedback. as i said before, the songs mentioned don't necessarily have everything to do with the story, they're just songs i used for inspiration while writing. much love! x


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: there are mentions of homophobia and homophobic slur, and also the story goes a bit deeper into Louis' alcoholism. Oh, and sexual content as well.

The first thing Louis registers, when he wakes up hours later, is that Harry is not lying next to him – his heart aches for just a split of second before he feels a stirring in his stomach and…and, oh, Harry is…there Harry is.

“Good morning,” Louis’ voice sounds rough even to his own ears, but Harry just groans around his cock, taking him deeper. He mutters a ‘morning’, muffled due to the fact that his mouth is busy, and Louis grins. “Don’t speak with your mouth full, _shit_ , Harold. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

Harry pulls his mouth off of Louis’ erection with his eyebrows knitted together. His hair is wild, wild, wild and his eyes are bright, lips red, swollen and shiny with saliva and quite possibly pre-come.

“Did you just mention my mother while I’m sucking your cock?”

Louis cackles, reaching out to pet Harry’s hair and move a curl behind his ear. Harry’s eyes flutter shut for a moment and he leans into the touch, but then he seems to snap out of it, because he takes the head of Louis’ cock into his mouth again and sinks down until his nose is nudging Louis’ lower stomach. It’s insanely hot, is the thing, how Harry just has _zero_ gag reflex.

“You’re so good at this,” he points out with a moan.

Harry just bobs his head more and more, reaching behind his chin to cup Louis’ balls, rolling them in his palm. If Louis cries out and his eyes squeeze shut, no one is to blame but Harry himself.

He pulls his mouth off and Louis is just about to beg him not to stop, but then he lifts a condom to Louis’ point-of-view and…oh, okay. That’s great, too. Incredible, even.

“Wait, we need lube,” Louis sits up a bit, fumbling around the sheets to find the forgotten bottle. Harry already has it in hand, has already spread the liquid across his fingers, and he is… “Fucking hell, Haz.”

Harry just grins, sinking down on two of his long, long fingers. He is probably still loose from last night, but thankfully doesn’t feel like taking chances – Louis really hates the thought of hurting Harry – and is already pumping his digits inside himself. He adds a third without waiting too much and Louis fumbles with the condom, rolling it on his length and giving himself a few tugs before he squirts some of the lube over his cock.

“I wanna ride you,” Harry breathes out, pumping his fingers a few more times before removing them. His cock is rock hard in between his legs, swaying as he moves to straddle Louis’ hips.

“Well, have at it,” is what he says, a smug grin on his sleepy face when Harry holds the base of his cock and gives absolutely no warning before he starts sinking down. His smug grin turns into an ‘O’ shape, eyes wide, drinking the very sight of Harry.

He holds onto Louis’ shoulder with lube-smeared fingers and the other fists into his hair, just angling Louis’ head back so they can kiss, morning breath be damned. Louis likes a lot of things about Harry, but this one in particular makes his heart ache – Harry is so raw, so sincere, so open. He is just himself, beautiful and free, riding Louis’ dick into the fucking mattress and kissing his slightly sour mouth with tongue, like he has no care in the world.

He digs his fingers into the curve of Harry’s hips and holds him closer, helping him bounce on top of him. Harry angles his hips a bit and he nearly screams, making Louis grin lazily against his mouth. “Found it?”

“Found it.”

Harry is smiling as well, and he doesn’t seem one bit ashamed about his loud moans. He is a sight to behold, all muscular limbs and tight stomach, a vast length of creamy skin bathed by the blue-ish light that Louis’ curtains give the room. It’s perfect. Louis is so, so screwed.

“Fuck, you’re so thick,” Harry cries out, wriggling his hips a bit, making Louis’ eyes roll back. “So good.”

He is bouncing, the mattress is squeaking, the headboard is banging against the wall, and Louis is so close to falling apart that he can’t help the small guttural moans that escape his throat every now and then. So he is particularly vulnerable in the morning – no one can blame him. Not that Harry seems to mind, though. If anything, he bounces faster, harder, whenever Louis lets out a soft sounding moan, and looks at him wide-eyed like Louis is the eighth wonder of the world. He could say the same about him, so it just seems pointless to tease Harry for it.

“I love the way you sound,” Harry whispers, pecking Louis’ lips once, twice, lingering on a third time before he sneaks his tongue inside again. “Ah, fuck, I’m gonna come.”

That is all the warning Louis gets before Harry cries out his name loudly, splashing between their stomachs with thick ropes of come, completely untouched. Louis follows him without having any say in it, sighing Harry’s name heavily into the thin morning air.

They’re silent for a long, long moment. Harry is still sitting upright on Louis’ softening cock, holding him by the shoulders, a mess of come and sweat between their stomachs. Neither of them seem to mind.

“Good morning,” Harry grins weakly at him after minutes of soft pants.

Louis smacks him on the bum, choosing to ignore – for the time being – how Harry goes rigid and moans quietly, and pecks his lips once before the taller male is lifting up from his lap, rolling to the side. Louis removes the condom and knots it, tossing in a nearby bin.

“Score!” He fist-pumps, making Harry giggle from his spot on the mattress. It’s a lovely sound and he finds himself rolling towards it. Harry turns on his side, his back to Louis, and the older male snakes an arm around his waist, spooning him. “What’s up, Giggles?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah?” He tickles Harry’s stomach and he giggles again, smacking his hand away. Louis presses his lips to Harry’s shoulder to hide his grin. “Are you hungry?”

“Mmm…yes. Quite a bit.” Harry rolls towards him, face-to-face now, and moves his messed up fringe off his forehead. It’s a gentle touch, and Louis feels warm all over. “Do you want me to make breakfast?”

Louis’ eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean…if you want.”

“I reckon it’s a bit impolite to let you cook _me_ breakfast, your first night over.” Louis scratches his scruffy chin absent-mindedly, not realizing how he said ‘first’ until he sees the tiny smile Harry is sending him.

“Can you cook, though?” Harry raises an eyebrow, interrupting Louis’ any attempt to brush his words off. Louis is actually glad for that – he really doesn’t want to treat this like it’s nothing, no matter what his insecurities are telling him.

“No, not really.” He admits with a chuckle, making Harry giggle and stretch his limbs out of the bed.

He starts searching around the room for his discarded boxer briefs, puts them on and scratches his stomach absent-mindedly.

“Well, come on. At least keep me company.”

Louis’ grin is so big he can’t even try to hide it.

**.**

“ _Morning_ , lovebirds,” Niall sings loudly as he steps into the kitchen, wearing a t-shirt that Louis is _sure_ it’s his, and sweatpants. “That was quite a show you put out earlier, uh?”

Louis feels his cheeks heating up, so he kicks Niall in the shin as he walks past him, but Harry just giggles, flipping another pancake.

He looks so comfortable, standing there in his bloody underwear, beautiful and unashamed, so much skin and muscles showing that Louis feels dizzy. Louis himself is wearing a black sweater and his boxer briefs, and he _lives_ there; it’s amazing to him how comfortable with his own body Harry is.

Louis doesn’t hate that one bit.

“Do you like pancakes, Niall?” Harry asks happily, smile wide and dimples showing, and Louis just rolls his eyes, sipping on his tea while Niall cackles a “Hell yeah!”.

Harry walks past him to deposit a plate with a tall stack of pancakes, and another full of bacon and eggs. It smells delicious, and Louis’ stomach grumbles right away, reaching for his share of the meal. Harry sits beside him, touching their ankles under the table, and they share a smile.

“What are the plans for today, Tommo boy?” Niall asks, chewing with his open mouth. Louis throws a paper napkin at him, hissing a “Close your stupid mouth!” and Harry giggles. “Ah, don’t be ridiculous. You don’t have to impress Harold anymore; he is _so_ into you.”

Louis’ face turns a deep shade of red, but if Harry is embarrassed, he doesn’t let it show.

“Aw, Lou. You’re blushing.” Is what he says instead, pinching one of Louis’ cheeks. Both Harry and Niall start laughing at him, and, honestly, fuck them. Louis hates them both.

“Am not.” He raises an eyebrow, and brushes them off before either can question his words. “ _And_ , for your information, Niall, my plans consist of lying around, watching Netflix and eating. All day.”

Niall holds his hand out for a high-five and Louis chuckles, smacking his own stretched out palm against his.

“Harry, you in?” Niall asks Harry, turning the palm in his direction. Louis feels himself tense a bit, because he hasn’t actually considered the fact that Harry might want to stay, but now that he has, he really wants him to. It’s ridiculous and he knows that Harry’s got much more to do, probably, than to sit around with two lads nearing their thirties and watching bad TV.

“Can’t,” Harry says with a frown and, ha. Louis knew it. He tries not to let that get to his head, though. “My dad is in town?” He scrunches his nose up a bit. “I told you, right, Lou?” He turns to Louis, as if asking for support, and Louis nods his head. “And he wants to see me before he leaves tonight, so I…um, I have to go.”

Niall shrugs, stuffing another bite of pancakes and bacon into his mouth, chewing loudly. “It’s okay, lad. Another time.”

Harry smiles weakly, looking down at his lap.

“Yes, another time.”

They clear out the dishes and Harry asks if he can take a shower, to which Louis just nods and lets him go. He feels Niall’s eyes on him the second Harry leaves the room, a knowing smirk on his face.

“What?”

“Oh, Tommo boy. You’re so, so smitten.”

Louis rolls his eyes, elbows Niall on his way out of the kitchen and joins Harry in the shower. If he gets down to his knees and sucks him off as a way to make sure Harry won’t forget him during the day, no one has to know.

**.**

After Harry finally says goodbye to Louis (He insisted that Louis didn’t have to drive him, he could get a cab, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer), he walks into the building with kiss-bruised lips and his smile wider than any other time he can remember. He is whistling to the sickest love songs he can come up with, and he isn’t even _bothered_ that he is acting stupid, is the thing.

Harry feels on top of the world and no one can ruin his day today.

No one.

“Thank fucking God, Harry, where the hell have you been?!” Is what he hears the second he steps into his dorm room.

Liam is sitting on his bed, a book on his lap and an apologetic smile on his face, and Zayn is standing in the middle of the room, a furious look on his face, both hands on his hips.

That’s not too surprising, though – Zayn does that _a lot_. What Harry didn’t expect to see was his father, sitting on the large chair in which he usually studies in, looking completely out of place, too fancy and too stuck up.

“Dad? What are you…what’s going on?”

Zayn is the first to speak, walking towards Harry with a worried look on his face, and he squeezes him by the shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. Harry has never felt more confused in his life.

“Harry, we were worried sick about you.”

Harry pushes Zayn off gently and drops his phone, wallet and keys on his nightstand, already kicking off his boots and sitting on the edge of his bed. “Okay, but why?”

He is genuinely confused, eyeing from Zayn to his father and then finally Liam. Liam just grimaces and shrugs, staring at his book like he could burn a hole through it with his eyes.

“Harry, you were out all night.” Zayn says matter-of-factly, lifting his eyebrows as if that could prove his point.

Harry looks at Liam again and he shakes his head, so his eyes land on Zayn and then his father. To his credit, Burt looks actually uncomfortable, but he quickly replaces that expression with knitted eyebrows that remind Harry too much of his own.

“Well, I…I stopped by last night, and…um, you weren’t here so,” Zayn scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “Liam let me stay? And then you didn’t come back all night, and this morning, and I was so…”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Harry Edward, _language_.” It’s the first time his father speaks, and Harry sighs heavily, eyeing him with pleading eyes. It’s not possible he can’t see how absurd this is. “Why don’t you just tell us where you’ve been, then?”

Harry feels his cheeks heat up a tiny bit but he holds his own. He raises his chin and pointedly looks at his father, as he says: “I was with a friend.”

“A friend!” Zayn squeals from behind him. He is so out of it that Harry actually feels bad, but he doesn’t, because Zayn doesn’t fucking own him.

“Does his friend’s name happen to be…Louis, is it?” His father asks, his hands knitted together and his posture picture perfect, like he is handling business rather than talking to his son. It’s been like this for so long that Harry isn’t even surprised – that doesn’t mean he isn’t bloody pissed, though.

“How the fuck do you know about Louis?” He looks from his father to Zayn, and a flash of guilt crosses his friend’s face before he can try to school it back to normal. Harry cannot believe this. He can’t believe this. “Are you for fucking real, Zayn? Why the fuck are you telling on me?”

“ _Language_.” Burt hisses again, and Harry rolls his eyes.

“Oh, fucking hell, dad. I’m a grown up, for crying out loud. I can talk however I want to, thank you very much.” He bites back, lifting a hand in his father’s direction as if to stop him from saying anything else before he turns to Zayn. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

“Harry, he is not good for you!” Zayn says sternly, hands resting on his hips. Harry could punch him right now – if he, you know, did that. “He is _older_ and quite possibly _poor_ and…”

“Shut the fuck up!” He growls in Zayn’s direction. He is standing now, too, right before Zayn. They’re inches apart and Harry is staring down at him with a look that could honestly kill. “Are you playing dumb? Or are you actually ill? Because, Zayn, if that’s the issue, I can help you.”

Zayn scoffs and Burt stands from his seat, stepping towards them.

“Harry Edward.”

Harry can’t even hear him right now.

He reaches for Zayn’s shoulders, firm but still gentle enough to not hurt him. Zayn’s eyes search across Harry’s face for a moment, and all he can see is anger. Anger and…and betrayal.

“Zayn, you need to understand that you and I, we will never, _ever_ be back together.”

“Harry!” His father steps further, placing a hand on his shoulder. He shrugs it off, not moving his eyes from Zayn’s face.

“Not now, not ever again. I don’t love you, I never did, and it’s sick that you can’t leave me alone or treat me like what I am to you. A _friend_.”

He lets go and Zayn looks around the room, clearly embarrassed, and there are tears shinning in his eyes. Harry feels bad right away, he does, but this had gone too far. If he didn’t tell Zayn this now, he never would – his father would never let him.

“That’s enough,” Burt claps his hands together. He pulls Harry to his side and eyes him with a frown on his face, trying to communicate with his eyes what his mouth can’t say right now. “Go freshen up and get ready, because you, me and Zaynie here are going out for lunch.”

_Zaynie_. Harry doesn’t get a fucking nickname, but Zayn does.

“Doctor Styles, I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Zayn starts, forcing a small smile on his face. “I have to…I have a bunch of cases to read and…”

Burt waves a hand in the air. All Harry can do is stare at him, a begging look on his face. _Please don’t make me do this anymore. Please._

“Nonsense, kid. You’re coming with us. You’re family too!”

**.**

“Wait, what? So the chicken is real?” Louis cackles, his limbs stretched out across the sofa, a cookie straw hanging out the corner of his mouth like it’s a cigarette. It obviously isn’t – Louis isn’t really allowed to smoke anymore – but it’s a gag. A _metaphor_ , like John Green would put, except less tacky.

Niall laughs, staring ahead at the TV. He is sitting on the end of the couch, Louis’ feet on his lap, and they’re watching Orange Is The New Black, their new addiction.

It’s the middle of the afternoon and Louis is still wearing the soft cotton pants and t-shirt he put on after Harry left, hasn’t even brushed his hair or styled it properly. Niall is the same, though – Louis isn’t even sure if he _showered_. They had sushi take-out for lunch and haven’t left the living room for anything other than to pay the delivery guy, get beverages or pee. It’s nice. It’s the usual.

Louis’ phone buzzes against his stomach and he waits a few minutes before he reaches for it, eyes still focused on the TV.

‘ _can you buzz me in? pls? x_ ’

It’s from Harry and Louis checks the clock to make sure it’s not, like, super early or whatever. He’d hate to interrupt Harry’s plans with his dad again.

“Nialler, pause the show, I gotta go get Harry.”

Niall makes a little fond face that Louis ignores, but he pauses all the same, busying himself with his own phone. Louis texts back a ‘ _sure, come in!_ ’ and then goes to the door, hitting the button that will allow Harry to come into his building. He waits patiently by the door, ignoring Niall’s snickering, and the second that there’s a soft knock on it, he opens to find Harry standing there.

Harry, red-rimmed eyes, standing there.

Harry, who looks like he’s been crying.

“Hazza?”

“Lou, can we go for a drive? Please?”

Louis doesn’t ask anything else. He just asks Harry to wait a minute, jogs inside to put on some shoes, get his phone, wallet and keys. Niall just raises an eyebrow at him, but upon noticing the look on Harry’s face, he nods.

Niall is an angel, that’s what he is.

Louis closes the door behind himself and reaches for Harry’s hand, a firm hold as he drags him to the stairs. “Come on. I have a perfect route for this evening.”

**.**

You and Me – Lifehouse

The wind blowing against Harry’s hair is each bit as incredible as he remembered from the night before. It’s soothing and distracting, but it’s also _fun_. It’s fun in the way Louis keeps reaching for his thigh, giving him a light pat or a pinch to get his attention. How he pulls a funny face whenever Harry stares at him for too long. How he sings along, his voice warm and soothing, to whatever song is on the radio – and how, when he doesn’t know the words, he just pretends he does. Just to make Harry laugh.

How in the world has it only been two weeks since they had their first kiss?

Harry isn’t stupid, he knows he is not in love. It’s too soon, of course. But whenever he looks at Louis, he just gets this… this feeling. Like, “yeah, I want you around for a while”.

“Can we get some food?” Harry asks, his voice a bit louder over the loud music and the wind and Louis’ singing. Louis immediately reaches for the radio, turning it down a bit so he can hear Harry. “Can we get some food?” He repeats. “I’m starving.”

Louis smiles and nods, taking a turn and slowing the car so they’re not racing anymore. Harry likes the gentle wind just as much as he likes the faster one.

“Yes, sure. Do you fancy some McDonald’s?”

Harry giggles. “Yes, please. Nothing I want more than greasy food.”

Louis gives him this look, a look he gives Harry whenever he does or says something dumb or silly, and it’s so…it’s a good look. Harry knows he shouldn’t read much into it, but it’s almost impossible. He finds himself smiling softly before turning away, staring out of the window as they go.

They go to a drive-thru and Louis asks for a large order of chips, a big chocolate milkshake and a cheeseburger. When asked what he wants, Harry just shrugs and says the same thing. Not too long later, they’re sitting front-to-front, parked in the McDonald’s parking lot, eating chips from the bag, munching on their burgers and sipping on their milkshakes. It’s peaceful and quiet, except for when Louis throws a chip his way and Harry tries to catch it with his mouth. They both laugh at how silly this is, but neither of them seems to want to stop.

After they’re both satisfied and Harry is just absent-mindedly sipping from his straw, getting the last of his milkshake, Louis reaches for his hand.

“Do you want to talk?”

“About what?”

Louis shrugs, a small coy smile on his face. “Whatever. Anything. Nothing. Or…” He steals a forgotten chip from Harry’s lap, chuckling as he pops it in his mouth. “Or we can talk about why you were crying earlier.”

Harry stares at him for a moment, trying to find the exact words for what he wants to say. He licks some milkshake off his upper lip and shrugs.

“Daddy issues,” he says with a roll of eyes.

“Ha. I can relate.” Louis looks a bit out-of-place, like he hadn’t meant to say that, like it had just…come out. He bites the inside of his cheek and flicks his fringe off his face with his delicate wrist, and Harry watches the tattoo on it for a moment before he focuses on Louis again.

“Oh? You can?” Harry stuffs his now empty cup inside the paper bag, folding the end so nothing spills out. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

Louis seems to consider for a moment, and the frown on his forehead tells Harry he is truly torn, so the younger lad is ready to brush it off, say Louis doesn’t have to tell anything he doesn’t want to. Louis lifts his hand closed in a fist for Harry to bump.

“Deal.”

Harry bumps it with his own fist and giggles. His laughter dies out as he tries to figure out what exactly there is to say about his father.

“My…parents. They weren’t always rich,” Harry starts out softly. “I mean, my mum was. She comes from this family, and they have a name, and…yeah. It’s all a bit silly, in my opinion.” He rolls his eyes as if to prove his point. “But my dad wasn’t. They met in uni, they were both med students, you know?” Louis nods. “My dad had every single scholarship you can think of, could’ve never paid for school himself or his parents. But they met, and they…they fell in love. My grandparents, from my mum’s side? They weren’t really happy about it,” Harry chuckles humourlessly, shaking his head. “It’s all a big fucking cliché. Pardon the language.”

Louis chuckles, scrunching his nose up. “Please, Harold. I curse like a sailor. If anything, I think it’s hot when you do.”

Harry smiles weakly, looking down at his lap. “Well, okay, so. Um…so my grandparents weren’t happy, and they didn’t want them to get married at first. But they did. They both graduated and started working a hell lot, trying to make money. My dad was obsessed with this money thing, trying to prove it to my grandparents he could, like, be a part of the family. Of the _clan_.” He rolls his eyes again. “Gemma came along and a few years later, so did I. It was about that time that my dad met Zayn’s father.”

Louis nods, urging Harry to continue. He has scooted closer to the side of the seat, eyebrows raised. Harry gives him a small smile before he goes on.

“My dad had been saving up on money, and Zayn’s family is, like, super rich. I don’t know where it comes from, but it’s something to do with hospitals around the country and stuff.” Harry shrugs a shoulder. “They became fast friends and Zayn’s dad offered my father an opportunity, to…to become bigger. I was around three at the time, I reckon. He let my dad borrow some more money, they got together and opened the hospital. They’re business partners to this day, you know? My dad and my mum, they’ve got the biggest part of the hospital now, and it’s…like, it’s not even about that anymore.”

Louis waits a bit for him to continue, but when he doesn’t, he asks: “What is it about, then?”

“Respect. My grandparents only respected my dad because of Zayn’s, and my dad feels like he owes him the world for that. I get it, you know?” He sighs. “Zayn’s family is great, I love them all, but…but I’m not some trading piece that my dad can give away so he can feel like he paid his debt.”

Louis stays silent for a moment.

“You’re not.”

“I’m not. And my dad can’t get that. He…he never even acknowledged the fact that I’m gay. Like, he doesn’t even _say_ it, like, ‘my son’s a homosexual’. He says it like ‘Harry and Zayn make a great couple’.”

Louis grimaces a bit, reaching out to pet Harry’s leg. Harry covers his hand with his own, and squeezes.

“I started dating Zayn because, yeah, he was cute and he was into men as well. We grew up together, there was…like, it was possible. And my dad, he was so fucking _thrilled_.” He shakes his head. “But when we broke up, whenever I showed up with another boy at home or even mentioned someone else, he made sure to brush it off. Like Zayn is my _endgame_ and I have no other choice.”

Louis brings Harry’s hand up to his lips and places a soft kiss against his knuckles. Harry gives him a smile and brings _his_ hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles. Louis chuckles.

“We’re a bit cheesy, I’m afraid.”

Harry giggles, eyes bright as they scan Louis’ face in the dimmed light of the parking lot. “I’m afraid so, yes.”

Louis smiles at him for a bit, but then his face turns more serious, more concentrated, like he is thinking through his next words.

“You do have a choice, though. Zayn doesn’t…he doesn’t have to be your endgame.”

Harry nods. “I know. He is not. I told him that earlier, for the first time in…years. My dad just brushed it off and took us out for lunch. Zayn is…I know he likes me, but he is just as stuck in this idea as my dad is. It’s not even about _me_ , anymore.”

Louis nods his head, and as if he is out of things to say, he pulls Harry into a hug. It’s a big awkward, what with leaning over the seat and all, but Harry feels warmer and safer than he’s felt all day. When they pull apart, Harry’s smile is tiny and barely there, but he feels better.

“Well, that’s my daddy issue. What’s yours?”

Louis gives a tiny, tiny smile, but it’s so _sad_ that Harry feels like he should just tell him to stop.

“My dad was an alcoholic.” He starts, picking at his nails absent-mindedly, clearly trying to distract himself. “He left me and my mum when I was seven years old. It was for the bloody best, I swear to God,” Louis nods firmly. “My mum didn’t deserve to live with him like that, and he…he was just gross. Would never be a good father, was never a good husband. After the day he left, it was just us for a long time until Mark came around, then my sisters, and…it felt nice. It was nice.”

Harry swallows thickly in his throat, eyes trailed on Louis’ face.

“After he left, I only saw him once. Only one, _one_ time. One conversation was what took him to ruin my life.” Louis chuckles, and it’s wet, sad, and no, no, no, Harry doesn’t want to make him sad.

“Lou, you don’t have to…”

“He was,” Louis interrupts him. “He was drunk. I was fifteen, running errands for me mum like the good, good boy I was. He was drunk outside of the shop, and he looked nothing like the man I knew, but his eyes were still the same. Exactly like mine, they are. Were. I don’t know if he is still alive.”

Harry flinches a bit in his seat, but Louis waves his hand in the air like it’s nothing.

“Oh, I don’t care about that. If he is or isn’t. But, back then, I did. I wanted him in my life so, so bad. I wanted his approval and I wanted him to love me. To see what a good boy I was. How great my grades were. How good with my sisters I was.” He rolls his blue eyes, scratching through his scruffy cheeks absently. “But back then, I was a lot more…camp. A little twink, if you will. Not that there is anything, absolutely _nothing_ wrong with that.” Louis adds quickly, “I see it now. I was a happy kid and I was perfectly fine. But he took one look at me, at my colourful clothing and my haircut and my mannerisms… My bloody mannerisms, Harry.” He barks a laugh, pressing the back of his head against the car window. “I was so happy to see him, I tried to talk to him, to ask him to come home for dinner…something like that. Anything like that. He said, and I quote, ‘I knew you were fucked up. I could see it from afar, that’s why I left. I don’t want a fag for a son’.”

Harry’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, and his eyes are wide, and he doesn’t know this man, Louis’ father, but he hates him. He hates him with all that he has.

“That was the first time I got drunk. I went out with my mate at the time, Stan? And I got really, really drunk. We drank everything that was lying around his parents’ house. The next day, Stan was dead on his feet, claiming he’d never drink again. Me? I was good as new. I was ready to do it again. And again, and again, and again…”

Harry reaches out for Louis’ hand again, squeezing it in his. Louis gives him a small smile and his eyes are wet, but he shakes his head quickly, blinking the tears away.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…it’s been too long since I told this story.” He scrunches up his nose. “I’m good. I’m better than good, I’m…I’m sober. Almost six years, and now forever.”

“And now forever,” Harry repeats and squeezes his hand. “Lou, he…he is a piece of shit. I’m sorry, but I do hope he is dead.”

Louis chuckles wetly, leaning across the seat to peck Harry’s lips once, twice and a third time. He sits back and shrugs.

“Don’t. You’re too good, Harry. You’re good and you’re pure, and he doesn’t deserve to stink your beautiful heart with hate. Not even for a piece of shit like him.”

Harry smiles, small and weak, looking down at their joined hands on his lap.

“And then?” Harry inquires, looking up at Louis’ face again. “Tell me what happens next in your story. Give me your happy ending.”

Louis seems torn for a moment, but eventually he smiles back.

“Well, I…my life was ruined by the time I was twenty. I had barely managed to graduate school, my mum couldn’t stand looking at me, my sisters didn’t even recognize me anymore. Sometimes I would be so fucked up that I’d look at the mirror and not recognize myself. I lost my job, my scholarships, most of my good friends…”

“And then…?” Harry lifts his eyebrows.

“And then…I met Niall,” Louis finally smiles. “It was his first day in Doncaster. He was walking by a park and I was passed out there, at eight in the morning, reeking of booze, dirty. I probably vomited on him a few times that day.

“He took me home, got me phone and called me mum, said I was alright. That I would be alright. Niall never gave up on me, Harry,” Louis smiles even wider at the memory. “Took him a few months to convince me to go to my first AA meeting, but I did. I was so young, you know? You don’t see a lot of twenty year olds there. He was just a few months younger, and that was his first week as a counsellor there. He physically forced me to go the first few times. He caught me trying to score drinks out of other people, selling my shit to buy alcohol. He saw all of that. And he never, ever gave up on me.”

“Niall is a good lad,” Harry says matter-of-factly. “He is…he is incredible.”

“He is my guardian angel. I promise to you I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him.” A dark cloud crosses Louis’ face but he shrugs it off. “But I am. We moved to London together once I was stable, my mum sold her car so I’d be able to open the store – mind you, I paid back every cent, even though she didn’t want me to – and he got a job working as a musician at a pub. I couldn’t even come and see him for _years_ because I wasn’t ready.

“I remember, the first time I came to watch him…” Louis chuckles wetly again. “He cried. Niall bloody cried. He stopped his gig and he stood up and called into the mic, ‘That’s my best friend right there and I fucking love that prick!’. Then he started crying. Everyone was giving us weird looks.”

Harry laughs along with Louis, squeezing his hand again. He has just met Niall – but he loves him already. Niall is an angel and he deserves to be treated as such.

“I’m going to bake Niall a cake,” Harry says after a moment.

Louis laughs so hard he can’t breathe, and turns the car on, pulling it out of the parking lot. He is still laughing when he says, “Come on, Harold. You’re coming home with me tonight.”

“Hey, at least try to woo me first,” Harry giggles, obviously joking.

The wind is blowing against his hair again and he is…he is happy. Louis is there, Louis is fine, and Harry holds so much admiration for him that he feels like he can take on the world just so Louis will be just as proud.

And that’s just the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, hi! thank you so much for reading this far. hopefully you liked this chapter, and now you can understand both louis' and harry's stories a bit better. let me know what you think with comments and whatnot, feedback is very important! much love to all. x


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings other than sexual content.

If it weren’t for the pink, glittery box with the “BILLS!!!!” written on it – Niall is _hilarious_ , ha – that his roommate places on the kitchen table twice throughout the days, Louis wouldn’t even realize that two months had passed since the first time Harry slept over.

The thing is, they’ve got a bit of a routine going on now. Harry is very busy with classes, his last year as a pre-med student and all, and Louis is also…kind of busy with work, or whatever. But whenever they’re both free, or whenever Harry has really stressful day at uni, and _every_ weekend in between, Harry is at his place.

It’s not even about the sex, although that’s quite incredible as well. He comes over and they watch bad TV with Niall until the blonde lad has to go to work, and, yeah, then they fuck on every surface of the house but they also talk, joke, exchange lazy kisses and stories from their childhoods. Louis has already realized that they have lived very different lives, but that Harry hates to bring up his parents’ wealth. It looks like it almost pains him, to be quite honest, and Louis doesn’t ask – it’s not his place to, not yet. Besides, he has an idea what this is about, and he doesn’t want to upset Harry by mentioning Zayn. Sometimes Harry comes over before Louis has even gotten home, and when he eventually does, he finds Niall and Harry in the kitchen, doing the dishes or baking a cake, laughing like they’ve been friends for ages.

Louis can’t say he is mad about it.

He even drops Louis off at his AA meeting one time, pecks his lips twice and promises to come and pick him up – with Louis’ car, mind you – once he’s done with his yoga class.

Despite all that, Louis doesn’t even realize that they’re actual _boyfriends_ , exclusive and stuff, until that Tuesday morning, in the middle of April, when Harry stops by the shop to drop off some tea and biscuits for Louis, kisses him hard against the glass door and runs off because he is late to class.

Not that this is any _different_ than usual – Harry does that a lot – but what happens after. Louis is still smiling lazily, sipping on his tea despite already having had it earlier, and walks back into the shop to find Aiden standing in the middle of the room, waiting for him.

“Hey,” he says casually, stepping closer. Louis raises his eyebrows quizzically and chuckles.

“Hi?”

“The…the shop is empty now, do you maybe want to…” Another step closer, reaching for Louis’ hip, placing a warm hand under his shirt. Louis squints at Aiden, then at his hand, trying to find an explanation for it. “Do you want to go to the back and, um, fool around a bit?”

See, that’s not the issue. Louis and Aiden have done that quite a bit in the past. It was casual and nice, getting off together and stuff, but they have stopped doing that for _months_. Before Harry even came around. Aiden started seeing this girl, a red-haired beauty that stopped by the shop almost every day, and Louis was excited for him, he really was. He never intended to be anything but Aiden’s friend, boss and casual fuck every now and then. He never developed any feelings for Aiden and he brushed off every attempt from the younger lad to make things deeper, more meaningful.

He knows Aiden is great and that he deserves incredible, incredible things. A relationship, for starters, and maybe a better-paying job. So, while he can’t quite afford the latter, he did everything in his power to support the former.

But the thing with Alicia – Louis thinks it’s Alicia, or Alice, or something like that – didn’t work out, but after that, Harry came around and they just never did anything like that again.

Needless to say, Louis is surprised and quite a bit annoyed that Aiden is coming onto him now, after months of zero pulling towards that direction.

“No?” He raises his eyebrows for a moment, then knits them together, a habit he knows he is picking up from Harry. He gently removes Aiden’s hand from his hip and steps back, smiling awkwardly.

“Why not?” Aiden doesn’t sound _mad_ , per say, just generally curious.

Louis levels him with a look that can only be read as ‘Are you kidding me?’. He walks past Aiden and finds a spot behind the counter, placing his bag of biscuits next to a stack of paper that he’d been doodling on all morning. He isn’t even embarrassed to realize that Harry’s name comes up more often than not – he knows he should be, he is twenty-eight, for crying out loud, but he is not.

“Well, it might have something to do with the fact that my _boyfriend_ just stopped by to bring me tea?” He raises an eyebrow and…oh, fuck. Boyfriend. He hadn’t said that out loud yet.

Aiden crosses his arms over his chest, lifting his chin in Louis’ direction.

“I wasn’t aware you are official now.”

 _Me neither_ , is what Louis thinks. “We are,” is what he says.

He doesn’t know for sure, but…he really hopes they are. If Harry has been fucking someone else, or isn’t really on the same page as Louis, well, that’s going to be devastating. He hasn’t realized how much he is into the idea of being official with Harry until now.

Needless to say, after that, things are awkward with Aiden for the rest of the work shift. He doesn’t meet Louis’ eye and, later that day, when Harry stops by and drags Louis into the back room, locking the door and going down on him, Aiden turns the music up louder in the front.

“Harry, Harry, _Harry_ ,” he cries out, pulling a bit on Harry’s hair, urging him up. “Hazza, look at me.”

Harry pulls back from his cock, eyes wide and pupils blown, lips red and swollen, shinning with saliva and pre-cum. He is a bloody sight.

“What? Is there something wrong?” His voice is hoarse and fucked out, a result of the fact he was deep-throating Louis’ cock not too long ago.

Louis shakes his head and pulls him up into a kiss, deep and a bit desperate. When he breaks the kiss, a full two minutes later, they’re both panting and Louis is looking up at him with an earnest look on his face.

“Are we… Are you my boyfriend?”

Harry’s eyebrows knit together, a quizzical look on his beautiful face and a lazy smile on his lips.

“Well, yeah, duh. What’s with the question?”

Louis just smiles and shakes his head, pushing Harry down to his knees again. Harry just giggles as he goes, and wastes no time before taking Louis into his mouth again.

They’re boyfriends, then. That’s alright.

**.**

White Teeth Teens – Lorde

Gemma is in town seven days after Harry assures Louis that they’re an actual couple. Harry’s been giddy about it all week, making comments about how _great_ his older sister is, how he _knows_ they would get along great, that her sense of humour is something else and that she is dying to meet Louis.

He hears so much about Gemma that he feels like he knows her already. But he doesn’t, and he really doesn’t think he is ready to, but Harry just won’t _shut up_ and it’s getting out of control by this point.

“Okay, yes, I’ll meet her.” He snaps one evening, when they’re already tucked in Louis’ bed, the post-orgasmic haze getting the best of him. He can see Harry’s bright, white smile in the dimmed lights of his bedroom, but he is too tired to pretend like he is actually annoyed.

So, fast forward to now, when Louis feels all too improper in his large grey jumper, jeans and Vans, standing outside of a restaurant that is all too proper and all too posh for someone like him.

He should’ve shaved, he really should have.

Gemma is going to hate him, and this hasn’t even started yet.

He takes a deep, shaky intake of breath and reaches for the fancy doorknob, flicking his fringe one last time before he comes inside.

“May I help you?” A tall lady with too-white teeth and not one sign of wrinkles in her entire outfit, pencil skirt and white blouse, asks him, levelling him with a look that makes him – again – feel all too improper.

“I…” Louis clears his throat. “My boyfriend is waiting for me. Styles?”

The woman just stares at him for a few more seconds before she nods, guiding Louis to the inside of the restaurant where a few cozy pristine tables sit spread evenly across the room. It’s not hard to spot Harry, even if the restaurant isn’t exactly empty, because he stands up quickly and gives Louis a beaming smile that – fuck – he is just so beautiful.

“I’ve spot him, thank you very much,” he says to the woman before making his way over. Like the day his father was in town, Harry is dressed in a white button-down and jeans, along with another pair of fancy boots. No plaid shirts in sight, sadly; Louis has grown quite fond of them. Next to Harry, with her back to Louis, there is a lady with platinum blonde hair, a perfectly sharp cut to her bob. Louis slows down the pace of his walking. “Harry,” he says after all, when he’s stopped in front of him.

Harry’s smile only grows, leaning forward to place a peck on his lips and then looking from Louis to…to Gemma.

Louis turns to her as well and, yes, he’d seen pictures – Harry has a bunch of them in his phone – but she is even prettier up close, like a female, more delicate version of Harry.

“Oh, thank goodness, you’re actually fit!” Is the first thing Gemma says to him, standing to her feet and ignoring Louis’ stretched out hand altogether in order to pull him into a hug. Louis is taken by surprise but he is quickly returning her hug.

“Gemma!” Harry hisses once they’re all settled down, and Louis feels his cheeks growing warm.

“What? The way dad said it, I thought he was a fifty-five-year-old balding man, excuse _me_.” She hisses back, then turns to Louis, a smile on her face that is all too similar to the one he’s been waking up to on a weekly basis. “You’re going to agree with me, Louis,” the way she says his name reminds Louis that Harry said she studied for years in France. It’s quite endearing. “That it’s only right I worry about my baby brother’s well-being. He is too young to be dealing with Viagra at this point.”

Louis actually laughs out loud, and a passing waiter sneers in their direction. Before he or Harry can say anything, Gemma is rolling her eyes at him, flicking her hair over the shoulder.

“Ah, piss off. If we’re not allowed to laugh, what’s the point of being alive?”

Louis loves Gemma – she is bright, funny, sarcastic as bloody hell – and the way she interacts with Harry doesn’t hurt either.

Louis isn’t so scared anymore, suddenly.

**.**

“Oh, that reminds me,” Gemma says before taking another sip of the white wine she is having for lunch. To her credit, she didn’t flinch or ask when both Harry and Louis passed on that, choosing ice water instead. “Mother’s birthday is coming, H. Have you thought about your excuse for not coming this year?”

Louis cuts another piece of his salmon, watching Harry closely with raised eyebrows. He is aware of Harry’s issues with his father, but he didn’t expect him to be on short terms with his mother as well.

“Gemma, not now,” Harry sighs, slumping against his seat. “And it’s not like _that_. You know I’m not avoiding her birthday, per say. Just…the party.”

“Party?” Louis asks from his seat after a few moments of silence, dabbing the fancy napkin over his closed lips. He has _some_ manners, thank you very much; his mamma raised him well.

Harry sighs again, but it’s Gemma who speaks this time.

“Every year, on our mum’s birthday, there is a _huge_ party. Like, show stopping. All types of entitled, snobby people come from all over the country,” Gemma chuckles, tipping her head in Louis’ direction like she is sharing a secret. “Since Harry over here got in uni, he has managed to skip each one of those parties, every single year. Imagine that!”

Louis’ eyes flicker from Gemma to Harry, a questioning look on his face.

“I, the good daughter and suck up that I am,” her tone holds no bite and even Harry chuckles. “Always come, even when I was back in France. That has probably something to do with the fact I live a much more expensive life than H, and am more likely to go insane if they stop paying for my credit cards’ bills.”

Louis isn’t surprised – while surprisingly laid-back, funny and easy-going, Gemma is dressed from head to toe in brands that Louis can’t even pronounce the name. Harry looks just as dapper, but Louis suspects it has something to do with his sister’s presence. Usually, he just wears plaid shirts and beanies, occasionally an expensive watch (Louis learned that it was a gift from his late grandfather, so he doesn’t tease anymore) and nothing else.

“Point is, he isn’t coming. He never comes.” Gemma finishes, sipping on her wine again. A look in Harry’s direction tells Louis that she is right, but then Gemma snaps her fingers in thin air, as if she has just had a realization that’s going to change their lives. “Oh, Harry! You have to come _and_ bring Louis!”

“Oh, no, I don’t think…” Louis starts quickly, the back of his neck suddenly warm and dampening with nervous sweat.

“No, no, listen. Mum thinks Louis is a child-eating monster,” Louis flinches a bit at the term, but he doesn’t stop her. “But just because she doesn’t know him. If she sees how charming, smart, funny and _fit_ he is, she is going to love him.”

Louis doesn’t let the compliments get to his head – but he is actually relieved that Gemma doesn’t think he is a “child-eating monster” herself. It’s ridiculous, is what it is, Harry is… _six_ years younger than him. That might seem a lot because he is still in uni, but soon enough it won’t mean anything.

Louis tries not to think about how he is so certain that they’ll still be a thing in a year’s time. He tries, but he fails; it’s scary.

“And what mum loves…” Harry finishes her line of thought, his smile widening. “Dad buys! Yes, that’s bloody brilliant, Gems!”

Ha. No, it’s not quite brilliant. Louis is freaking out.

**.**

Louis’ phone buzzes for the third time that evening, and he just stares at it, elbows leaning on his knees, fringe falling over his eyes. There is a forgotten mug of tea to the right of the phone, probably going cold by now. He doesn’t care.

**3 Missed Calls**

**6 Text Messages**

Louis is a piece of shit, is what he is. It’s the day after lunch with Gemma and he’s been avoiding Harry like the plague. They parted ways the day before with a short kiss on Louis’ end, and if Harry noticed, he didn’t say anything. Louis went straight home, texting Aiden to close the shop after himself, he wasn’t feeling good.

It wasn’t a lie, per say. Louis _has_ been feeling shitty.

Harry texted him a couple of times the night before, just that he was busy studying but he was hoping to see Louis the next day. It went unanswered.

Then today, he texted another time, just a “Lou?” that made Louis’ heart ache so badly that he was going positively nuts over it.

He left Louis alone for the rest of the day (A day that Louis didn’t go to work, still ‘feeling down’) but then tried to text him a few more times when the Sun went down, and even called him. Three times.

They all went unanswered; his texts were all left on _Read_.

The most recent one, “I just want to understand…did I do something wrong?”, makes Louis choke on a breath and he is thankful that Niall chooses that exact moment to come home, the noise of keys momentarily distracting Louis from what was surely going to be a sob.

“Lou?” Niall calls from the hall, kicking his shoes off as he walks towards Louis’ bedroom. “Lou, why did Harry call me asking if everything’s okay with…”

Niall cuts himself short when he walks into the bedroom. Louis is sitting cross-legged on the bed, unmoving, staring at his phone as it lights up _again_ with another phone call.

“Louis, what’s happening?”

When Louis’ eyes meet Niall’s, he can’t bring himself to stop the sob from breaking through his chest. “Niall, I am so f-fucked,” he gets out before he starts crying. Full-blown crying.

“Oh, Lou,” Niall walks to bed, dropping his messenger bag to the floor with a soft thud. He crawls on the bed carefully not to spill Louis’ cold tea, and wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a side-hug that fits perfectly after years of practice. “Shh, you’re good. It’s all good. What happened?”

Louis is still crying but he relaxes immediately under Niall’s touch on his arm.

_Fucking guardian angel, is what he is._

“Harry…he…he wants me to…” Another sob, and Louis buries his face into Niall’s shoulder. His tears are dampening his best friend’s shirt, but he’s never cared before, surely won’t care now. “He wants me to…to meet his…parents.”

Niall sighs tells Louis everything he needs to know. This isn’t insane, he is not overreacting. Louis has a reason to be worried.

“And you’re avoiding him, now?” He says eventually, to which Louis nods weakly. “Now, that’s not very mature, is it, Lou?”

Louis just sobs again, and Niall squeezes his shoulder.

“No, I’m sorry, calm down.”

“No, you’re right! I’m being so fucking immature, but I can’t,” he cries out. “I can’t, Niall. You know what they’re going to think of me. It’s a bloody party, and they’re all so fucking _fancy_ , you should’ve seen his sister.”

Niall opens his mouth to speak, but Louis beats him to it.

“You don’t understand, Niall. She said her mum thinks I’m a child-eating monster,” he chuckles wetly, no humour in his voice whatsoever. “She didn’t mean to offend me, no, she was being _honest_. And I’m aware that Harry is an adult, I know he is capable of making him own choices, but it seems like everyone else is aware of how different we are, of how _wrong_ I am for him.”

“You’re not wrong,” Niall says firmly, but Louis ignores him.

“He is going to catch up at some point. He is going to see that he is destined for a lot better than…than an older guy, with a fucking illness, who hasn’t got anything to offer other than a beat up book store.”

Niall’s lips are pressed shut, and Louis stares at him for three seconds before he starts sobbing again. Niall’s fingers run through his hair as he collapses to his lap, crying so hard that he can’t see straight or even feel as his phone starts buzzing again.

“Lou, you’re great, you’re perfect, there is nothing wrong with you…”

Niall is showering him with praise and he sounds _honest_ , he is sincere, he does think that – but Louis can’t even hear him anymore.

**.**

“Are you sure you don’t want me to close for you, Louis?” Aiden asks again, hitching his messenger bag over his shoulder. Things are still a little awkward, but today was the first time in four days that he’s come to work, and Aiden seems to pick up that Louis isn’t completely alright, so he is acting…gentler. It’s nice. “I can, you know. It’s not a problem. You can go home earlier.”

Louis just shakes his head, waving Aiden off with a hand. He smiles and it’s forced, clipped, but he is trying.

“No, I’m good. Honestly,” he knocks his knuckles against the clear counter. “Have a good Friday night, A.”

Aiden bows his head once and eyes Louis carefully for a few more seconds before he sighs and walks out the door. Finally, Louis is alone for the day, and he is free to be as miserable as he wants without having to deal with curious looks or worried stares.

A quick look outside tells him the sky is a dark shade of grey, so a storm is definitely coming and, fuck, he should probably hurry up and close the shop before he is stuck in his car in an horrific traffic.

Louis starts packing up his things – an empty mug of tea, a book he’s currently reading, a…green beanie. Harry’s green beanie. The beanie he left at Louis’ place and that Louis had put on, just because he needed that piece of comfort.

A quick look down at his own body reminds Louis that he needed more than the beanie. He is also wearing a grey and black plaid shirt, a lot bigger on himself, that smells _a lot_ like its owner. It was the shirt Harry had been wearing when he slept over at Louis’ place for the last time, on Sunday.

It’s been almost a week. Five days since he’s last seen him.

Four days ignoring him altogether.

After three days trying to call and text Louis, Harry stopped. Niall didn’t say anything, but Louis suspects he had stopped trying to get information from him as well.

A loud thunder startles Louis and he curses under his breath, pulling the beanie over his head, getting his phone and keys, and heading out to the door.

He has just closed the front door and is about to lock it, when a whisper of his name gets his attention. It’s a voice he’s become quite familiar with the past two months or so. His hands freeze on the doorknob and he swallows thickly as he turns around, and surely, there’s Harry.

Harry, with knitted eyebrows but soft green eyes. Harry, who’s wearing a red and black plaid shirt that looks all too familiar to the one Louis is wearing right now, and who looks as good as the last time Louis saw him.

If you don’t count the dark bags under his eyes, his tousled hair and how bitten his red lips look, like he’s been tugging on the bottom one nonstop with his teeth.

“Louis,” he repeats louder this time.

Louis takes all of a moment before he answers him.

“Hey.”

Harry actually laughs – he barks a loud cackle that sounds _nothing_ like the soft, sweet giggle that Louis has been hearing for a while now.

“Hey? Is this what you’re giving me? _Hey_?” He runs his hands through his hair, and fuck, he looks so…hurt. Louis has never felt worse. “Why are you doing this, Louis? Why? What the fuck did I do wrong?”

Louis’ throat tightens and the loud thunder that comes just before the first raindrops start to fall feels awfully convenient. It’s exactly like Louis feels inside.

“Are you just going to fucking stand there and stare at me?” Harry bites back, sharp and relentless, taking a step closer to Louis. He reaches for the hem of Louis’ shirt, then gently touches the green beanie on top of his head. “These are mine.”

“Yes, I…” He starts, but he can’t find the words to explain. How do you tell a guy, your _boyfriend_ , that even though you’ve been ignoring him all week, you still need him around so badly you can’t help but wear his dirty clothes? “I’ll give them back, I…”

“Are you fucking breaking up with me?” Harry barks at him, green eyes wide now. “Why? What did I do?”

Louis takes a step back and his back collides with the glass door of the shop. The rain starts falling faster, thicker, and soon enough they’re going to be drenched but he can’t seem to find it himself to comment on it.

“I’m…I just…” He says instead, pulling the beanie from his hair and handing it to Harry. Harry doesn’t take it from him – he looks hurt, and Louis’ eyes might be betraying him but he swears he sees tears in Harry’s eyes. “Harry, I don’t…this is not…it’s not going to work.”

Harry’s mouth opens and closes several times, and yes, they were tears. He is openly crying now and Louis feels like shit, like a piece of garbage. They’re drenched with rain and Harry is staring at him like he has just took his heart in his hands and split it in a million pieces.

Maybe he has.

“Please…” Harry whispers softly, reaching out for Louis. His hand hangs mid-air, and Louis has never once wanted to take it more than he does now. “Please don’t…don’t break up with me. Please. Whatever it is I did, I can…we can fix it, Lou, we can.”

FOOLS – Troye Sivan

“No, baby, no.” Louis reaches for his hand and takes it, pulling Harry closer. Harry sobs against his body, tightening his arms around Louis’ waist. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong, Harry. You’re perfect. You’re a bloody dream.”

Harry pulls back just a tiny bit, eyeing Louis with so much honesty in his eyes that Louis feels like he is about to burst.

“I’m in love with you.”

_I’m in love with you._

“You…” Louis breathes out, blue eyes searching Harry’s face for any sign of hesitance. There aren’t any. “Harry…”

“No, please, believe me. I’m so in love with you, Louis. Maybe it’s early or whatever, but…I’m so…so…so crazy about you.”

Louis does the only thing he can think of and pulls Harry into a kiss. His hands are tight as fists in Harry’s damp hair, pulling him closer, closer, and Harry is pressed up against him, tightening his arms around Louis’ waist, hitching him up in their embrace. The kiss is desperate and languid, and there is so much love in it that Louis can’t _breathe_.

He pulls back from Harry, squeezing his upper arm when the younger lad whines, and he pushes open the door to the store, pushing Harry inside before he walks in himself. He locks the door and turns to Harry, ready to attack him with another kiss, but Harry is already there.

_Harry, Harry, Harry._

It’s all Louis can think of as they kiss again, heated and desperate, and he pushes Harry back, back, back until they bump against the counter.

“I’m in love with you,” Harry repeats when Louis breaks the kiss, as if it’s the only sentence he’s ever learned to say. Louis growls low in his throat and pulls him by the hand to the back room, and Harry follows blindly, attached to older lad’s back, kissing down his neck and back up.

A loud thunder outside startles the two of them, but it’s not nearly enough to part them right now. Louis turns around and peels off Harry’s shirt without much care, but it’s nothing compared to the way Harry _rips_ his own plaid shirt off of Louis’ chest. Buttons pop and make a clicking noise as they fall to the ground, and Louis laughs, hysterically so, before Harry is kissing him again.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” he cries out when Harry kisses down his neck, down his chest, over his tattoos and the light reddish brown hair that dusts his chest. He bucks his hips into thin air when Harry sucks on a sensitive nipple, then the other, and he falls on the couch with a sagging body when Harry pushes him gently. “Harry, Harry, please.”

Harry’s kicking off his own shoes and pants, and already moving towards Louis to do the same to him. “Please what, Lou?” He whispers back, his voice deeper and rougher than Louis can ever remember hearing. He pulls Louis’ pants to do the ground, followed by his boxers, and his hand is around Louis’ cock before the older male can think of what he was going to say. “Please what, Louis? Tell me, baby, please.”

Louis’ back arches from the couch into Harry’s stroking hand, already moaning softly. He hears Harry whine and he knows this is getting to him just as much.

“Fuck me. Please.”

They haven’t done that yet and he doesn’t know how Harry is going to react, if that’s something Harry wants to do, but he needs that. He needs Harry close, closer than ever before, inside of him.

Harry hisses a “yes” and crawls on top of Louis again, kissing him deep and hard, his tongue dancing inside Louis’ mouth with practice ease. They’ve kissed _so_ many times the past couple of months that it feels like second nature by now.

He grinds his clothed cock against Louis’ bare one, and Louis hisses, arching his back towards Harry.

“Can you…can I…” He grips Louis’ bum, kissing down Louis’ neck. “Can I get you…wet…”

Louis’ eyebrows raise just a bit, not quite following. When Harry manhandles him onto his front, Louis squeals a bit, gripping onto the leather cushions of the couch. He starts spreading kisses down Louis’ naked back and, oh.

“Okay,” he breathes out shakily, arching his back up towards the touch of Harry’s lips. His kisses are warm and firm, and his hands are squeezing each of his bum cheeks, and Louis has never felt more _grounded_ and light all at the same time. He presses a kiss on Louis’ right arse cheek and then sucks a bruise there, and then he is spreading him open with both thumbs and… “Ah, fuck.”

Harry’s tongue is wet and warm, teasing around his rim, pressing just the tip inside. Louis’ jaw goes slack, mouth stretched open, and he can only drop his forehead against the arm of the couch, arching his arse towards Harry’s face.

The younger lad groans when he does that, burying his face deeper, licking broader, firmer, pressing inside deeper. It’s incredible, it’s perfect. Harry has a very talented mouth, Louis knew that by now, but that’s a whole new level of perfection.

“Harry, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna…come…” Louis moans into the leather cushion, biting down on it to keep from screaming when Harry starts thrusting inside, sharp shallow thrusts, but enough to make him dizzy.

Harry pulls back and he kisses up Louis’ spine again, landing a warm, wet kiss behind his ear, sucking a bruise there.

Harry crawls off of him and Louis turns his head to see he is headed for his forgotten rucksack, digging through it until he finds a half empty bottle of lube and a condom – Louis recognizes them as his _own_ bottle of lube and the brand of condoms he always buys, so he guesses Harry took them last time he was over.

He doesn’t have time to think about it, nor does he care, because then Harry is behind him again, kissing over his rim and licking a broad stripe, and he hears the click of the bottle being uncapped, and then there is a digit pressing inside of him. Harry’s fingers are longer than Louis’, but he is so careful, licking around his rim to relax him, pumping the digit slowly before he adds a second one…Louis feels truly loved.

_Harry loves him._

“More,” he breathes out softly. Harry seems to consider for a moment, dragging his fingertips along Louis’ prostate just right, kissing over his right bum cheek. “Please.”

Harry presses a third finger, just as carefully if not more, and Louis’ back arches, dropping to his elbows in front of Harry. He realizes he must look insane, face down, bum up – judging by the sharp intake of breath he hears from Harry, it’s an alright view.

His fingers are long and skilful, pumping slowly, stretching apart, opening Louis up for Harry’s bigger than average cock. He hadn’t even considered that, is the thing, but Harry’s being so throughout that he knows he will be alright.

“Hazza, please. I’m ready. Please, baby.” Louis moans, looking over his shoulder to find Harry’s eyes fixated on the way his fingers disappear in and out of Louis. They snap up and meet Louis’ blue pair, and Harry smiles. “Please, just…”

He removes his fingers, kissing up Louis’ spine again, reaching for his ear, sucking the spot behind it. Louis melts and he can hear Harry’s soft groan behind him.

“Please what?” He asks softly, but he is already reaching for the condom and blindly ripping it open, rolling the thing over his length.

Louis just bites his lip and cries out when he feels it nudging his rim.

“Please fuck me,” he breathes out.

Harry takes another deep breath, and Louis is amazed at how absolutely wrecked Harry sounds. Like he’s the one about to be fucked – like sex with Louis _always_ wrecks him, no matter whether he is taking his cock or giving it to him. Louis groans at the thought of that.

“Do you want it like this?” He asks gently, rubbing the head of his cock over Louis’ rim, never actually putting enough pressure inside.

Louis nods quickly, reaching behind himself and pulling Harry harshly down to kiss him. The kiss is wild, open-mouthed and slick tongues, harsh breaths and tiny moans. It’s a storm just as powerful as the actual one outside.

When Harry finally pushes the head of his cock inside, Louis moans against his lips, sucking on the bottom one harshly. Harry is not thicker than Louis, but he is definitely bigger, and the light curve of his cock drags _right_ against Louis’ prostate immediately. It’s insane and it makes his body shiver with pleasure.

“Harry,” he cries out, pushing his bum back as Harry bottoms out. The younger lad kisses his cheek softly and then he is kneeling behind him, squeezing onto his hips with a strong grip that’ll probably bruise – Louis doesn’t give one flying fuck right now – and the change of angle must drive Harry as insane as it does Louis, because he starts thrusting in and out right away.

“Fuck, you look so…so good…fuck, your bum, Lou, it’s…fuck.”

Louis just grins weakly against the arm of the couch, pressing his forehead on it, moaning softly whenever Harry’s cock nudges him just right. Harry starts out slower, gentler, but then he seems to lose it, because he drives himself deeper, faster, harder. Louis can’t do anything other than lie there and take it, crying out in pure bliss whenever it feels particularly good.

Harry leans over Louis’ back again, kissing his neck, whispering soft “so good, Lou, so good” into his ear. He is nailing directly against Louis’ prostate and Louis is about to come, he knows he is, but he needs a final push, just a little something to get him there. He thinks that he needs a hand around his cock, or maybe just some light friction against it – what he didn’t think he needed is the way Harry moans “I love you” into his ear.

Louis cries out so loudly it might as well be considered a scream, and he is falling apart, coming undone under Harry’s heavy weight, spilling on the couch. Harry moans in his ear, fucking him harder through it, and then he is falling apart as well, crying out Louis’ name several times.

They don’t move – it’s not the most comfortable Louis’ ever been, but he can’t feel his bloody legs, so he is not trusting himself to move right now.

Harry pulls out and removes the condom, tossing it carelessly on the floor, and then he is flipping Louis over and pulling him onto his lap. He wraps his arms around him tightly, borderline too tight, and presses his face against Louis’ neck, kissing softly against it.

“Harry?” Louis says after a moment of silence, running his fingers through the mess of Harry’s curls, in a soothing way – more to himself than to Harry. The younger lad makes no mention to move, as if he’s afraid of whatever Louis is going to say. “Harry, please look at me.”

Harry doesn’t. He squeezes Louis closer and kisses his neck again.

“Harry, please.”

“Don’t break up with me, Lou,” Harry says finally. His voice is hoarse and weak, and it feels like he is about to cry. “I don’t know what I did, or…or where I went wrong, but we can fix it. We’re good together, I know we are.”

Louis sighs softly, gripping onto the back of Harry’s head, lifting his face so their eyes will meet. Harry does look like he is on the edge of tears, and Louis’ stomach turns, but he is not one bit torn about what he says next.

“You loon,” he whispers softly, brushing their lips together. “I am so, so in love with you.”

Harry’s arms go slack around his waist, and he eyes Louis like he’s grown a second head. He pulls back just a tiny bit.

“You don’t…you don’t have to say that, just because I did. It’s not…I wasn’t expecting you to say that.” Harry says and Louis knows he is being completely honest, like he always is. But so is Louis.

“Love, look at me. Harry, this was never about me not being completely gone for you,” he admits softly. “I was…hell, I _am_ so scared to meet your family. Of the talks and the talks. Of what they’re going to think.”

Harry looks confused for a moment, but then he shakes his head.

“Lou, I don’t care. I don’t care one bit what they think. Yes, it would be great if my parents could see you the way I see you, the way _Gemma_ saw you, but if they don’t…” He is so firm in the way he speaks that Louis can’t help but smile a bit. “It’s their bloody loss. It’s not going to change the way I feel for you. Not going to change what you mean to me.”

Louis presses his lips tightly together, nodding.

“Though, we don’t have to go if you’re not ready. It’s not a big deal – it’s not like my mum is expecting me to come, you know?” Harry adds after a beat, rubbing his thumb in circular motions against Louis’ hips.

“I’ll…I will think about it, yeah?”

Harry smiles at him, leaning to steal a quick peck, that turns into a second, third and then a full-on kiss. By the time they pull apart, the rain is not even that strong anymore, no more audible thunders, but they don’t make a move to pull away.

“So…” Harry says gently, still pecking his lips. Louis smiles before he can stop himself. “You’re in love with me, huh?”

Louis laughs and smacks his arm, but then he is kissing all over Harry’s smirking face. “Yes, yes, yes, yes…”

He doesn’t stop for a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, little loves! first of all, thank you for the kudos and whatnot, it's been great. hopefully you liked this chapter, please let me know your thoughts. if it's already 2017 where you are, happy new year! if not, i'll see you next year? ;) )sorry, the joke has to be done.)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No major trigger warnings, but there is a scene with unprotected sex (Don't! Do! It! Unless you completely trust the other person and, even then, be careful).

Half of My Heart – John Mayer

Louis has been living in London for quite a while now, and he knows the city well enough to understand that, when a sunny day presents itself, you go out and enjoy it. It doesn’t matter if you’re sick, if you’re working, if you have an important exam coming up.

You put on your shorts, tank tops, sundresses, whatever it is that you wear during warm days, and you go _out_ because you don’t really know when you’re going to have a day like this again.

That’s what he did – when Louis woke up that Thursday morning, the Sun was so bloody _bright_ that his blue curtains were doing very little to conceal the light, and his eyes opened slowly and then widened, because. Fucking _finally_ , a warm day.

After texting Aiden to say he’s got the day off, he is not opening the store today, and receiving a bunch of smiley face Emoji’s, Louis grins to himself and gets up from the bed, a wide, wide smile on his face.

He hates mornings, it’s a known fact – but he loves a sunny day more than that.

He wakes up Niall with a loud “Get up, you booger, it’s warm outside!” and then rushes into a pair of jeans shorts, a black top and a baseball hat. He drags a sleepy Niall out the door, stuffs him in his car, and drives with the windows down and enjoying the heat – it’s not, like, scorching hot…it’s still London, after all, but he works with what he’s got – towards Harry’s campus. He knows he is having a break right now, before another row of classes, and he parks the car outside the Science building, where he knows Harry spends most of his time at.

“Nialler, you wanna come?” He asks. Niall just flips him the bird and nudges his face against the cool glass window, falling asleep again. Louis chuckles, patting his bottle blonde head with a grin, and walks out of the car.

‘ _Where are you xxxxx_ ’ he texts Harry, realizing then he should’ve done that earlier. Harry’s answer comes soon enough: ‘ _Break, why?? Are you okay?? xxxxx_ ’

God, they’re sickeningly cute.

He presses the call button and brings the phone to his ear, and Harry answers after the second ring.

“Babe? Is everything alright?” Harry asks into the phone and Louis just grins.

“Yes, yes, everything’s good. I’m outside of the Science building, where are you?”

Harry clicks the call off and within minutes, he is outside. Louis doesn’t know if he should laugh at the puzzled, clearly concerned expression on Harry’s face, or just kiss him silly. He is so, so beautiful – long legs clad in skinny jeans and a grey plaid shirt unbuttoned almost all the way to the bottom. Either he was too sleepy getting dressed this morning, didn’t care or the Sun had been bright enough that he knew it was going to be hot. Louis stretches his arms out for him immediately, and Harry goes into the hug without further question, pecking his lips. He runs his hands up and then Louis’ bare arms, squeezes his biceps for a moment before he looks back to his face again.

“You look so good with this top. Your arms, bloody hell,” Harry licks his lips, leaning down to kiss Louis’ lips again. The older guy flushes a bit under his hungry stare, but just brushes him off. “What’s up? What are you doing here?”

Louis feigns hurt, squeezing Harry’s shoulder. “Well, hello to you too. It has come to my attention that it’s _sunny_ outside, and you were _stuck_ in class, so I did what any respectable boyfriend would do, and I came to pick you up.”

Harry looks even more concerned now, eyeing his surroundings and spotting Louis’ car a few steps down. “Is that… is that Niall?”

“Yep. Dead to the world, asleep as a rock. _But_ he is outside!”

Harry laughs brightly, the warm sound that Louis has grown to love so, so much. God, he loves _Harry_ so, so much.

“Come on, Hazza. I’ve texted a few mates, we’re going to play footie at the park, and then we can go for ice cream, and…and…” Louis runs out of ideas, but he covers that up quickly with a peck on Harry’s lips. Kisses always distract him. “Surely it’s not the end of the world if you miss one day of classes. Please?”

Harry considers his options for a moment. A locked up building, stuffy, stressed out pre-med students, annoying professors…Louis, wearing a tank top and _shorts_ , chasing a ball under the Sun.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

**.**

As it turns out, Harry can’t play football to save his own life, so after a few tries that only seem to make all the lads tease him more and more – Louis flips them off and yells at every one who makes Harry pout, thank you very much – he ends up sitting on the grass by their makeshift field.

It’s just a few shoes spread around, making the territory and the goalpost, and it’s silly, but everyone is having so much fun that Harry can’t help but laugh along.

The day is warm enough that he feels comfortable to shrug off his plaid shirt and pull the legs of his jeans up above his knee – and he doesn’t miss the way Louis skips a step as he eyes him across the shift and almost falls down face-first. Niall holds him up and cackles, yelling at Harry to “Go get dressed, Styles!”. Harry just grins and leans back on his elbows, bathing under the sunlight as much as he can.

The game is 5-3, Louis’ team is winning (He is actually quite good at this, Harry is pleased to learn) and Harry’s got to meet a few more of Niall’s and Louis’ friends. While they’re all older than him, they don’t bat an eye when Louis tells them Harry was in class earlier, just laugh and nudge Louis for being a “bad influence”.

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been more at peace than he is right now.

“Babe, can you get us some waters?” Louis shouts from the middle of the field, flipping his mates off when they tease and ‘Awwww, babe’ him.

Harry nods promptly, jogging towards the little vend where an older lady sells drinks and healthy snacks. The park is full of people, quite possibly in the same state of mind of Louis, and Harry smiles at her kindly even as she blows a teasing whistle after he jogs away.

Louis is already sitting by his discarded shirt and shoes when Harry comes back, handing him a bottle of water and passing a few others around the group of men.

“Am I crazy or did that lady just whistle at you?” Louis cackles between small sips of water, his body glistening with swat and his fringe glued to his forehead. Harry brushes said hair off of his face and laughs along with him, shrugging. “Jesus, you’re hard maintenance, Harold. Can’t leave you alone for a few minutes and you’re already beating people off with a stick.”

Harry giggles with joyful glee, leaning a bit closer to Louis to whisper: “Well, why don’t you just show her that I’m taken, then?”

Louis knows what he is doing, and he is playing along, leaning across the distance to suck Harry’s lips in a soft kiss, teasing the seam of his mouth with his tongue and deepening it. They part when Niall shouts a “There are kids around, lads!”, both of them giggling into the warm air.

Harry smooths his palm on the rough fabric of his jeans, staring ahead. Louis is hot, sweaty and golden next to him – he can’t be tempted like that without distracting himself from it.

“Oh, did I tell you Li went on a date with that girl? The English major?”

Louis’ eyebrows shoot up and he grins around his bottle of water, turning to Harry with a small smile. “Is that so? Well, we just might have to send a thank you card to this lady, don’t we?” He sips again, smirking wider when Harry giggles. “She did get you to meet me.”

Harry nods along with him, reaching for the discarded bottle of water to place it back inside the plastic bag the lady had given to him.

“Yeah, well, Liam is freaking out now. We’re graduating soon and she might have to head back to her hometown for work, so.” He shrugs, grimacing a bit.

Louis is silent for a moment, eyeing Harry with his lips pressed shut.

“Have you decided what you’re going to do? After you finish your undergrad?”

It’s a question that Harry has answered so, so many times before in the past. His family, his friends, his professors, his colleagues. Everyone expects Harry to have a plan, and he does, but it’s the first time Louis asks him.

“Mmm, the original plan was to go to this med school, in Manchester?” Harry shakes his head. “I didn’t get in, totally missed the applications deadline, and even if I had, I wasn’t…it wasn’t _my_ plan. My parents met there and they just wanted to me to go as well, so. Yeah.”

Louis is quiet, but he nods for Harry to continue.

“I got in a couple of great, great ones here in London, though. I’m still choosing, but whichever one I go to, they won’t be happy. Even if they’re technically _better_ than the one in Manchester.”

Louis scratches his beard, staring ahead, smiling weakly when Niall kicks Oli’s shin for something dumb he said or did. “And why that is?”

“My parents are very, very controlling, is the thing.” Harry shakes his head. “Gemma went through hell when she said she didn’t want to be a doctor, but work with fashion instead. When _I_ said I wanted to be a doctor, they assumed I was in it for all the wrong reasons – their reasons – and it’s not about that at all.”

Louis is still staring ahead when he speaks up again, but Harry knows he is doing it in order to appear busy.

“Is that why you don’t want to go to the party?”

Harry snorts. “Yes, more or less. It’s not even about her birthday, the party. It’s about showing off, and making business conversations, and…and show my grandmother, my mum’s side, that my dad did it.”

“And you haven’t been to the party in…how many years?”

“Three. Four, this year.”

“Yes, yes.” Louis clears his throat, turning to Harry with a small glint of something in his eye. Harry perks up. “Harry?”

“Yes, baby?”

“I think we should go to this party.”

**.**

The moment that Louis had agreed to go to the party was also the moment he made peace with it. Whatever happened, Harry would be with him. They would be fine. Even if Louis used the wrong fork, or laughed a bit too loud. Even if he wasn’t in on the conversations about travelling worldwide or how Syria had affected their economy.

They would be fine.

“You’re really going, then?” Niall asked from his spot on the bed, eyeing Louis as he – tried to – neatly fold a button-down into his suitcase. They would be gone for three days tops, but he knew that the Styles household would expect him to be put together at all times; if what he had seen of Harry and Gemma together was any indication of it.

“Yeah, I am. I mean…yeah. Do you think I’m making a huge mistake?”

Niall just laughed, shaking his head. He was sipping on a Starbucks drink that Louis didn’t even know the name, but knew that was too sugary and too expensive for his taste.

“No, I’m happy for you. I’m proud. It’s a great step you’re taking, Lou.”

 _Ha_ , Louis thinks. _A step towards my terminal death, maybe._

So maybe he is a tad bit dramatic. Family trait or summat.

“When are you two leaving?” Niall asks again, making a loud sucking noise as he tries to get the last of his drink with the straw.

Louis would snap and tell him to stop that right now, but he doesn’t even have it in him anymore. He’s grown used to Niall’s habits over the years.

“Tomorrow morning. Haz is coming over tonight, and we’re driving first thing in the morning. I only agreed to come if I could have my car with me, you know. In case I need to flee.”

Niall chuckles, but nods nonetheless. He seems actually alright with this whole thing, and Niall is usually good with reading situations – if he isn’t worried, maybe Louis shouldn’t be either, right?

His phone buzzes, startling him, and he smiles when he reads Harry’s name on it. ‘ _on my way up_ _x_ ’ is what the text message says. He knows the code to their building now, has a key to the apartment and all, but he is always polite enough to let Louis know when he is coming.

It’s bloody endearing, is what it is.

Louis just grins to himself and continues folding his shirts into the suitcase, and not even full three minutes later, the front door is opening and Harry is calling out a “Honey, I’m home!”. He does that _every time_ and Niall cackles like a little boy _every time_.

“In the bedroom!” Louis calls out, ignoring Niall’s chuckles. He is distracted by having to choose between a blue and grey shirts that have the same pattern – he will probably take both. Harry walks in the room and behind him, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist tightly and pressing a loud, wet kiss to his cheek. “Hello there, Harold.”

Harry grins against his cheek, wide and just…happy. Louis tells himself he’s made the right decision to come along, if this pleases Harry so much.

“Hi, baby. Hi, Ni.” Harry waves a hand towards Niall, who just grins and bows his head once. “Oh, Lou, you told me you had packed already!”

Niall cackles. “And you believed him? Oh, Harry, so young and innocent.”

Louis rolls his eyes, folding another shirt in what he hopes is a perfect square. “Well, I’m doing it now, no big deal.”

Harry smacks his hands away and continues to fold and, _oh_. Now that is a perfect square. “No, you’re going to get your clothes all wrinkled like this. Let me just…” He bumps Louis away with his hip, standing before the suitcase and taking over the process.

Louis grins but shrugs nonetheless, walking over to the bed and crawling next to Niall. He makes a point to stretch his arms out before tucking them behind his head, watching as Harry finishes his packing job for him.

“Where did you find him, mate? I need to find me someone like this.” Is what Niall says, making Louis chuckle and Harry throw a sock at him. “I’m just saying! He takes care of you. Cooks, cleans, packs your bloody suitcase. The sex is _obviously_ good, because you two won’t shut the fuck up…” He makes a point to stare at Harry when he says that, but to his credit, Harry doesn’t even flinch. He is a shameless minx, that boy. “And he is alright looking, I guess. For a lad.”

Louis laughs and Harry joins in, picking up the sock from Niall’s chest and planting a loud, wet kiss on Louis’ best friend’s cheek.

“Aw, Ni. You think I’m pretty?” He coos, making Niall blush and Louis laugh harder.

He doubts life can’t get much better than that.

**.**

For the first time in forever, Louis wakes up first. He blames it on the nerves, of course, but also on the pile of heavy limbs, boyish sweat and curly hair on top of him. He loves Harry so much it physically aches him sometimes – this is one of them.

He checks the clock on his nightstand and sighs when he realizes they’re still got at least a few hours before they have to drive to Cheshire. Okay, he can do this, he can just go back to sleep and pretend like he is not freaking out about meeting Harry’s family.

It doesn’t work.

So, extra carefully, Louis removes himself from under Harry’s weight, smirking to himself when the taller boy clings onto a pillow like he immediately misses Louis’ presence. He loves Harry. He loves Harry so, so stupidly much.

Louis leaves his bedroom in a quest towards the kitchen, and one of the many windows that this flat holds tells him it’s still a bit dark outside, the Sun just coming up. It’s not going to be a sunny day, he can tell, but that’s fine. They’ve had one last week and Louis is not greedy enough to blame poor, beautiful London for being herself.

He can hear Niall’s loud snoring from across the flat, his door open to show he is spread across his bed, sleeping soundly.

Other than that, it’s quiet. Maybe too quiet.

He makes himself a cup of tea, choosing their largest mug just because he knows he needs the extra pump, and heads back to the bedroom. Harry is still fast asleep, and Louis smiles at him softly before he pulls the curtains just a bit and cracks open the glass door to his balcony. He closes it quickly once he is outside, because it’s a little chilly outside and he doesn’t want to bother Harry with that.

Yellow – Coldplay

London is not quiet – it is never quiet – but it’s considerably less…loud. Less busy. The sky is a nice shade of grey, mixed with the white sunrays coming up, and while Louis sips on his tea, he thinks about the first night he’s spent in this flat.

Back then, he was so, so scared. Wasn’t fully recovered, nowhere near that. He still stumbled home drunk a few times, still vomited all over their carpet more than once. He shivered and convulsed many times in his bathtub, begging Niall to not give up on him, that he would be good the next day, he would, he would.

The memories are painful, of course they are, but they’re eye-opening. Louis is such a different person today. So much stronger. Wiser.

There is still a lot of the bright-eyed kid that he was at fifteen in him – he thanks God or whoever is up there for that – but he has seen too much, has done too much to not have changed into a different man.

The thing is, before Harry came along, Louis didn’t think no one would be able to love this different man. Not that there was something wrong with him, Niall assured him daily that he was great, but there was too much baggage, too many untold stories in his blue eyes, too many lost dreams in the wrinkles that had already started to mark the sides of his eyes.

He knows he is not _old_ , of course. He also knows he is a lot older than all the other twenty-eight-year-olds he knows.

“Lou?” A deep, hoarse voice startles him back to reality, the glass door to the balcony opening again. Harry is standing there in all his naked glory – he always sleeps naked, even if they shower and Louis gets dressed after the sex. “Is there something wrong?”

Louis sips on his tea once more before he turns to him, a small smile on his face. “No, baby, it’s all good. I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

Harry shakes his head, walking towards him. He stretches his arms out and Louis accepts the hug gladly, Harry’s warm body taking away any hint of chilliness that London’s early morning brought.

“No, it was just…sad without you in bed.” He whispers against Louis’ forehead. Louis can just smile, giving his neck a few soft kisses that make Harry melt right away. They break apart and Harry takes Louis’ mug from him, sipping on his tea. He leans over the balcony, staring ahead at London with just as much wonder in his eye as Louis had just minutes before. “What are we doing?”

“Nothing, I reckon. Just having some tea and watching the Sun come up.”

Harry hums, sipping on his tea again. Louis leans over next to him, resting a hand on Harry’s naked lower back, rubbing circles there. Harry smiles at him over his shoulder, but then continues to stare ahead.

“You’re probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me, did you know that, Harry?” Louis says after many minutes of silence.

Harry snickers, sipping on the stolen tea again.

“No, no way. That was Niall, for sure.”

Louis sighs. “No, don’t get me wrong, Niall saved my life. I’ll always owe him the world.” He clears his throat. “But…I think…no, never mind, it’s silly.”

Harry straightens his back, resting the mug on the thick wood of the balcony, and turns to Louis. “No, tell me. I want to know.”

Louis wraps an arm around Harry’s waist loosely, rubbing his hipbones with soothing thumbs.

“You made me want to _live_ again, you know? Not just exist.” He doesn’t flinch when Harry shakes his head, staring down at his feet with a blush on his pale skin. “No, hear me out. Niall saved my life…no, scratch that. He made me want to save myself. I saved myself. And he made me want to exist, to…to be here, to show the world I’m worth a damn. But you, Harry, you…fuck. It’s too early for this.”

Louis doesn’t know for sure if he means the hour or the fact that they’ve been together for three months, known each other for just a bit longer than that.

“No, go ahead. Please.”

“I didn’t have any crazy ideas about having a family, getting married, having kids and shit. I did, yeah, when I was a kid and before everything happened, but after, I just…sex was sex, and I got off because it was what my body needed. Love was my mum, my sisters, Niall. Love wasn’t a guy that treated me right, or a beautiful story that would end up in a flowery wedding.”

Harry clears his throat, biting his plush rosy lip so hard that Louis fears he is going to hurt himself, so he reaches out and untucks it from under his teeth. “And now?” Is what Harry asks, while Louis rubs his thumb over the abused lip.

“And now is all I think about. Marrying you. Building a family. Kids. Another obese cat or maybe a cute dog. A white fence in a suburb somewhere. Picking you up from a bloody long shift at the children’s hospital that I _know_ you’re going to work at, because your eyes shine every time you mention it.”

Louis feels his throat tighten and he looks away for just a second before blue eyes meet green again. He finds so much love in that gaze that he doesn’t know if it’s his own towards Harry reflected, or if Harry is just as desperately, stupidly, crazy in love as he is.

Harry’s mouth is on his before he has a chance to think this over. He kisses him slow, throughout, gentle and still so passionate that Louis’ knees feel weak all of the sudden. He is backing him up against the balcony, pressing his naked body against Louis’, cradling his head to deepen the kiss. The harsh movement makes the mug fall off the balcony and they break apart to look down just in time to see it crashing against the ground. It splatters into a million pieces and the noise is _so_ loud in the otherwise quiet morning, that they can’t help but laugh just as loud.

“Shut the fuck up!” Someone yells into the thin morning air, banging a fist against one of the windows of the building. They try to stop but just end up giggling more, like two schoolboys, drunk in their own love.

“Come on, come on, inside,” Harry is the first to speak, pulling Louis inside the bedroom again, closing the glass door to the balcony and pressing Louis against it. They kiss and kiss and kiss until the only thing they can taste in their mouths is each other, the tea long forgotten.

Harry’s hands roam all over Louis’ body, squeezing him closer, teasing his sensitive nipples, digging his thumbs underneath the elastic of his sweatpants. Louis is the same – he touches Harry’s broad shoulders down to his narrow back, squeezes his perky bum closer, digging his fingers into the soft flesh. Harry moans into his mouth and he loves the sound so, so much that he wishes he could bottle it for himself.

They walk backwards to the bed, Harry falling on it first, Louis crawling on top of him. He kisses down Harry’s chest, creamy white skin glowing with the first rays of Sun that come through the window. Louis could kiss him forever and ever and ever.

Harry is already so hard, leaking at the tip, flushed and desperately swollen. Louis’ mouth waters so he wastes no time before holding him by the base and guiding the engorged head into his mouth, sucking on the tip like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. It probably is.

Harry is sweet – “I eat a lot of fruit, Lou” – and, more than that, he is so _pliant_. Whenever Louis has his mouth on him, he melts, squirms, cries out for ‘more, more, more’. It’s like he has no control whatsoever; Louis thinks that’s exactly the case.

When the head of Harry’s cock touches the back of Louis’ throat, he struggles just a bit, but a deep intake of breath through his nose relaxes him again, and he starts bobbing his head, licking around his length, doing whatever he can to please him.

“Please don’t,” Harry cries out, his stomach tightening. “Please…please…I want to come on your cock.”

Louis pulls off at the sound of that, but he can’t help but give the head a few kitten licks before he is moving towards the nightstand. It’s an easy, practiced move by now to coat his fingers with lube and spread Harry open. One, then a second, and a third. Harry arches his back into Louis’ strokes, gives him so many dirty smirks, purrs a bunch of pleads for more.

It’s fascinating, is the thing. Louis can’t help himself if he gets just a little bit carried away.

“Lou, please, please, _now_ ,” Harry begs in a whiny voice, his deeper drawl nowhere to be found. Louis loves it when he loses control that much.

Louis gives his fingers another couple of pumps and then withdrawals them, wiping them clean on the duvet of his bed. He reaches out for the condom, but Harry just holds onto his wrist, pulling him closer again.

“I’m…I’m clean.” His deep voice asks, wide eyes searching across Louis’ face for any signals that he isn’t following what Harry wants.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I am too.” Louis replies back just as quickly, reaching for the bottle of lube. Blue eyes search green, a silent question in them as he coats his cock with another layer of lube. “Are you sure?”

Harry nods quickly, pulling Louis into a kiss as he takes hold of his cock and guides it between his bum cheeks.

The press inside is so wonderful that Louis releases a loud moan into Harry’s mouth that the younger lad promptly swallows in a kiss, crying out himself as Louis goes deeper, deeper until he bottoms out.

“Bloody hell,” Louis whispers against Harry’s lips.

Harry smiles.

“I know.”

It’s a slow push in and out, languid and with no hurry whatsoever. The world is just now waking up, everything is so quiet except for Harry’s soft cries and Louis’ low grunts, the soft smack of skin, the obscene wet sounds they’re making.

They’re making love like they’ve been doing it for years.

They’re making love like they know they’re going to do it for years.

“I love you so much,” Louis grunts, quickening the pace of his thrusts, angling his hips just right to nail against Harry’s prostate.

Harry’s lips part in a silent scream, green eyes rolling back, hips arching off the bed, limbs shaking.

“Yes, yes, yes, Lou,” he moans obscenely. “Yes, more, more. God, I love you so much…”

“Oh, baby, fuck, Harry…I’m gonna…”

“Yes, please, yes!” Harry throws his head back, eyes squeezed shut. He shudders when the first few ropes of Louis’ cum fill him up, and comes undone immediately just because of _that_. Because it’s the hottest he’s ever felt and it’s the closest they’ve ever been. He falls into his orgasm with a loud cry of Louis’ name, body convulsing under Louis’.

It feels like hours pass before either of them can move – it hasn’t even been two full minutes, probably, as they’re both still shaking when Louis pulls out and collapses to the side.

“I love you so much,” he hears Harry say. He is staring at the ceiling, but the heat of Harry’s gaze on the side of his face is distracting. “I love you so much and I want to spend every day of my life with you.”

He turns on his side, eyeing Harry’s sweaty, come covered and filled body. He looks like a wrecked mess – wide pupils, flushed cheeks, lips bitten red – but he’s the most beautiful thing Louis’ eyes have ever seen.

“You will. I promise.”

It’s the second promise of Louis’ life that he intends to keep.

**.**

Holmes Chapel _is_ a small town, Harry hadn’t been lying about that. It’s a village, more likely, and everyone looks so…so nice. Posh, of course, but nice. Louis feels his nerves slowly melting away as Harry drives through the small town, smiling and pointing to a few things in their way.

‘I had my first kiss there!’ He points to a park. ‘Oh, I used to work there; did I tell you I used to be a baker?’ Only a thousand times, thank you very much. ‘That’s where I had my first be…I mean…I…’ Louis scoffs and laughs. “You can say beer, Harry,” he snickers.

Harry rolls his eyes and smacks his forehead, muttering an ‘Of course, yeah, I can’. They drive smoothly around town and Harry still hasn’t mentioned or made a move to drive in the actual direction of where they’re headed; it’s a bit nerve-wracking, if Louis is honest.

“Love, I want nothing more than to get to know every single corner of your hometown, but it’s almost noon now and I think we should probably be heading to your house.” Louis points out, checking the watch on Harry’s wrist to make his point.

“My parents’ house,” is what Harry says, short and quietly.

“What?”

“The house, it is not…it’s not my house. I don’t have a house yet. It’s their house, with their money, not mine.”

Ah, there we go. Harry is always so quick to reassure Louis that his _parents_ are rich, not him. This shouldn’t come as a surprise by now, but it always does, because…well, Louis has never met a rich person who doesn’t want to be rich.

“Alright, love, I get it. What are you afraid of, that I’m gonna see the house and flee?” Louis chuckles to himself. “Come on, I’m here now, aren’t I? I’m not going away. We’re doing this.”

Harry sighs to himself but takes a sharp turn with the car, heading to a different direction than the one they were headed to. A few minutes into the drive and, oh, there we go. Now _that’s_ the side of Holmes Chapel not many people get to see.

It’s like he has just stepped into Beverly Hills or…or _Calabasas_ or something equally expensive and out of his own reach.

Many Victorian style houses are lined up, one next to the other, but there is nothing suburban about this scenario. They’re miles apart, with giant gates and security guards – honestly, what for? Everyone is rich around here – and mahogany, and…and expensive things.

Louis is a little dizzy.

When Harry puts the car to a stop, they’re in front of the largest gate he’s seen so far, a dark gold colour to it, and Harry is stepping out of the car. An older lad with a black uniform eyes Harry for a moment and then his eyes bulge out – Louis remembers Harry mentioning that he doesn’t visit home often, especially not during this time of the year – and he opens the gate.

Now, now _this_ is more something along the lines of what Louis was expecting. The vast grass is so green that they’re almost the same shade of Harry’s eyes, a bunch of trees lining the way to the front of the house. The giant house, with the giant porch and tall columns.

“Woah,” is what Louis says after a while. He turns to Harry with a squint in his eyes. “Now, you said they weren’t _that_ rich. Have you been lying to me, Harry?”

Harry’s cheeks flush red, and Louis takes pity on him, chuckling and patting his shoulder.

“Come on, loverboy. We will be fine.”

God, he really does hope they will be fine.

They have to be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! sorry i wasn't able to post yesterday, had a full day. hopefully you like this chapter aaaand we're coming closer to the end. let me know your thoughts and whatnot! much love. x


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: public humiliation, but it's a small scene.

If Louis thought the outside of the Styles household was a bit too much, then he was definitely not prepared for what he was going to see inside.

A chandelier that probably costs more than his mum’s entire house is hanging from the ceiling as soon as they step into the hall, and he is positively mesmerized by it for a few seconds until Harry tugs his hand with his own that’s not occupied by their duffel bags.

There are many voices coming from further down the hall, males and females, but he still has his neck turned towards the giant chandelier, letting Harry just pull him forward.

“Mum?” He hears Harry calling out as soon they step in a different room. Louis angles his head and…oh, that’s probably the living room. Do rich people call it ‘living room’? It just feels too common and too inappropriate, considering the large sofas and another bloody chandelier, and crystals, and mahogany _everywhere_ – and everything is so…white.

Louis thinks back to his own childhood home, to the mismatched photography frames on the walls, the creaking stairs, the duvet laying on the sofa that’s almost as old as he is. It’s a nice, cozy home, of course, and he loves it dearly. He wonders briefly what Harry would think of it.

“Mister Styles!” An older lazy with hair as white as the house itself and gentle brown eyes approaches them, her smile so kind that Louis feels warm. “We didn’t know you were coming.”

Harry smiles at her just as brightly, dropping their bags to the floor and giving her a one-armed hug. “Rosa! I missed you so much.”

Rosa pats Harry’s broad back with small, wrinkled hands and Louis smiles softly at her. He doesn’t know Rosa, but she is gentle with Harry and he likes that.

“My dear, you look so stunning,” she continues, eyes flickering to Louis’ face. “And who is that handsome man with you?”

Harry perks up, letting go of the hug and turning towards Louis with warm eyes. “Oh, Rosa, this is my boyfriend, Louis. Lou, this is Rosa. She taught me everything I know in the kitchen.”

The small crowd of men and women, all dressed in similar uniforms, turns to the sound of that, clearly curious but apparently harmless. Louis smiles at Rosa and then at the group of people, waving shyly.

“Hello, Rosa. Very nice to meet you.”

She smiles, brown eyes crinkling at the corners, and pulls Louis into a hug as well. He chuckles and hugs her back and, yes, it’s official – he likes Rosa.

Harry is still laughing when Rosa breaks the hug, and gestures behind herself. “Well, as you boys can see, we’re all very busy today.” Rosa says gently, stepping back and schooling her facial expression into something more…professional. Louis misses her kind smile right away. “Harry, dear, your mother is in a meeting with the event planner upstairs, so if you and Louis here want, I can get Mark to bring your bags to your bedroom and you can go see her?”

Harry nods firmly, still smiling at Rosa like he can’t help himself. Louis has a feeling that the older woman is part of why Harry turned out to be so gentle, so warm towards people.

“Yes, thank you, Rosa, that would be lovely.”

Soon enough another gentleman is scooping up their bags from the ground and walking towards the stairs, carrying them easily. Harry squeezes Louis’ hand and gives him a small smile, gesturing for him to follow as Harry leads the way up the same mahogany stairs.

The second floor, much like the first, is wide and spaced out, _white_ as bloody hell, but there are some different paintings on different walls – Harry points to a room with double doors to the far end, telling Louis that this is his bedroom, where they’ll be staying. Louis lifts an eyebrow but says nothing, just follows Harry as he walks down the corridor to another set of double doors, but they’re a maroon tone, instead of white.

Harry knocks once before opening one of the doors, head-first into the room to say, “Excuse me, mother, may I come in?”.

Ah, there it is, the posh way of speaking that Louis recognized when they first met. Harry is a lot more relaxed these days, but apparently this house brings it back full-force.

“Oh, Harry Edward! I am so happy to see you, my love, come in!” Louis hears a feminine voice squealing from inside, and then Harry is walking in, pulling Louis along with him.

The feminine voice belongs to a middle-aged woman with short brown locks and green eyes that look far too much like Harry’s for Louis to not love immediately. She is dressed in a perfectly tailored pencil skirt and a white blouse, wearing black heels. Her face is completely made up with zero signs of flaw, her nails are equally pristine, and Louis doubts for a moment that this woman right in front of him has ever done anything wrong or improper. She is far too flaw-free for that.

Her eyes fall on him and her kind smiles turns into something less…open, but it’s still there. Louis feels all too wrong, even with his best jeans, best shoes and a blue Oxford shirt.

“Oh, Gemma was not lying, he _is_ very easy on the eye.” Is what she says now, closing the distance between them with loud clicking heels and pulling Harry into a hug. Harry doesn’t let go of his hand and Louis is glad for that, especially now that her sweet perfume is feeling the air so close to him. She breaks the hug and turns to Louis, extending a hand in his direction. “Hello, you must be Louis. I’m Christine, Harry’s mother.”

Louis swallows thickly in his throat and extends his hand out to shake hers, trying to not feel completely out of place when her eyes land on the tattoos on his hand. Her frown is gone as soon as it appears, and she shakes his hand firmly, her hand extremely soft even then.

“Yes, Mrs. Styles, that’s me. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Harry squeezes his free hand and clears his throat, eyeing his mother like he is trying to tell her a billion words at once, but can’t.

“Well, I know you’re busy, mother, so I’ll leave you to…that.” He gestures with a wave to the sharp-looking male sitting across from them, a mess of papers on his mother’s desk. “We just wanted to say hello.”

Christine eyes Harry with a smile, then back to Louis. If her smile looks tight and maybe too bright, Louis is not about to comment on that.

“Yes, yes, of course. I am truly happy you’ve come this year, Harry. You can’t even imagine,” she sounds sincere as she says that, Louis can tell. “And that you’ve brought Louis along, of course. We are…we are pleased to have you with us, Louis.”

Now, that didn’t sound half as sincere, but it’s better than nothing. Louis smiles brightly at the woman and lets Harry drag him out of the room, gently closing the door behind himself.

“Come on, let’s go find Gemma.”

**.**

Gemma is sitting on one of the chairs around the large kitchen island, munching on perfectly cubed pieces of watermelon and laughing at whatever Rosa has just said, when Louis and Harry find her.

“Oh, boy. I did _not_ believe Rosa when she said you were actually here,” she gives Harry a wide smile, then winks a sly eye in Louis’ direction. “Louis, always my pleasure to see that handsome face.”

Louis laughs and walks past Harry to pull Gemma into a small hug, to which she squeals with delight and squeezes him tighter.

Her platinum hair is pulled back in a bun and she is wearing a large Chanel pullover, along with ripped jeans shorts – even though she looks much more relaxed than the last time Louis saw her, she still looks just as fancy.

“See, Harold? This is what you do when you see someone you love. You _hug_ them.” She points out once Louis has stepped back. Harry rolls his eyes but goes for a hug himself, kissing the top of her head. “Thank you, thank you. Now step away, you smell like dirty London streets.”

It’s a joke, of course, and they all laugh. Louis and Harry sit across from her and the latter immediately reaches for another bowl of fruit, getting a strawberry for himself and offering Louis one.

“Rosa, aren’t we having lunch today?” Harry pouts, stretching his legs out to touch Louis’ ankle under the table.

“Have you actually forgotten how this day goes?” Gemma examines her nails for a moment. “We starve all day because everyone is too busy gathering for the party favours, and then party time comes around, we get drunk on an empty stomach, and awful hangover the next day.”

Louis feels Harry freeze next to him, but he pats his knee under the table, reassuring him. Harry relaxes under his touch and smiles, shaking his head.

“That’s bullshit,” he spits out, then seems to remember where he is. “Pardon my language, I mean…that’s silly. We should, um, we should have lunch. I’m _starving_.”

Rosa perks up from her spot across the kitchen, from where she had been ordering a group of people to do this or that.

“Well, my boy is home and she is hungry, so just for you,” Rosa says, pointedly raising an eyebrow at Gemma, who cackles. “I’ll make something for lunch. Louis as well, of course, since he seems so kind and not at all intended into hurting my feelings with comments on how _grey_ my hair is getting.”

“Hey! I was just saying, I can do your roots if you want.” Gemma shrugs, making Rosa laugh and pat her blonde hair in passing. Louis can tell easily that it’s all harmless teasing between the three of them, and suddenly he is filled with images of a younger Harry and younger Gemma, being raised by the housekeeper because their doctor parents are always too busy.

**.**

Harry’s room is _absurdly_ large, with a small cozy room before the actual bedroom, an en suit bathroom that’s almost the same size as Louis’ actual bedroom and a closet that holds so many clothes that Louis could get lost. He doesn’t point out that none of these clothes seem like actual clothes that Harry would wear, and maybe they’re even a size or two too small, probably from when he was a teenager leaving home for university.

But Louis had been so nervous since the moment they went upstairs to start getting ready for the party that Harry had to take matters into his own hands. He took him into his en suit, stripped him bare, bent him over the large mahogany sink and ate Louis out until he was coming undone on the pristine white floor, crying out Harry’s name along a bunch of unspeakable words that felt too dirty in such a perfect house.

Harry seemed to love every moment of it.

“Blue or grey?” He lifts two different shirts to Louis’ eye level, pouting softly when Louis flicks his wrist as if to say ‘you choose’. “Lou, please. This is for you.”

The only reason why Louis agreed to let Harry buy him a suit for this party was because he was afraid that nothing he put on would be proper enough – he had been extremely right, what with the way everyone was dressed _casually_ being his best at the best day.

Still, it didn’t mean he was happy about it, nor did it mean that he was ever letting it happen again. He would be wearing the same suit every damn year, if it came to that, thank you very much.

“Mm…grey, I think?” He shrugs. Harry smiles and nods, hanging it next to his own perfectly tailored suit. To Harry’s credit, he doesn’t look one bit happy about this party or the fanciness of it all, but he is a lot more at ease than Louis, of course. He grew up in this house, he has attended at least a dozen of these parties in his lifetime.

The noise downstairs is growing louder and louder by the minute, voices mixing with the music being played outside by some DJ with a name too fancy for Louis’ ears.

“Are you feeling better?” Harry asks softly, crawling on the large king sized bed, nudging between Louis’ thighs. “More…relaxed?”

Louis chuckles and smacks his arm, giving him a shrug of shoulders. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Good.” Harry smiles, pecking his lips one, two, three times, lingering on a third. “After this party is over, I’ll take _you_ on a drive around Holmes Chapel. I’ll park your dark somewhere far, far away, and I’ll ride you until the Sun comes up.” Harry’s tone drops a hint or two, his smirk stretching out in a dirty, lazy way. “Sounds good?”

Louis licks his lips hungrily, nodding quickly. “Sounds absolutely perfect.”

Harry grins at him, then rolls to the side and off the bed.

“Well, good. Now come on, we’ve got to get ready for this party thing.”

**.**

Harry’s father looks an awful lot like him. Harry’s eyes are his mother’s, of course, but the dimples and the square beautiful teeth, the broad shoulders and back, even the hint of pigeon-toed feet, they’re all from Burt.

He levels Louis with a look and nothing else, squeezing his hand in a hold that’s probably a bit _too_ tight, but it’s whatever. Louis is a big boy, he has dealt with arseholes before. If Harry doesn’t bat an eye when his father gives Louis a once-over, then Louis doesn’t care either.

_I fucked your son just this morning_ , he wants to tell him, shut him up. _He screamed my name. He screams my name on a daily basis._

Thankfully, he doesn’t say that or anything dumb, just lets himself to be dragged to another corner by Harry.

Harry, who is sipping on a tall glass of orange juice, completely unfazed when Gemma insists he should have at least one drink. She doesn’t offer Louis alcohol, thank God, but Louis doubts she _knows_ why he isn’t drinking either.

The house is crowded with people already, loud music, drinks, food being served. Louis is a little dizzy with it all, he isn’t going to lie, but Harry has never left his side for one second, not even when his mother insisted that he had to talk to this new doctor in their hospital.

Harry smiled tightly, said “Yes, mother” but dragged Louis along, introducing him first. “This is my boyfriend, Louis.” He had said with the widest smile in the world – Louis thinks everything is worth seeing that smile.

Now, standing to the corner of the party, watching Harry sip on his orange juice like it’s completely normal and not a sacrifice at all, Louis thinks he is going to be fine.

That is, of course, until the door opens again.

“Ah, fuck. No.” Harry curses under his breath, squeezing Louis closer, almost like he wants to hide him. Louis is very confused until he sees Zayn, two beautiful girls who look just like him, and two older people, probably his parents. “Fuck, Gemma said Zayn wasn’t coming. She did, she said he was doing job interviews in America.”

Louis squeezes Harry’s hand, bringing it to his lips. “Hey, it’s okay. You’ll be fine, yeah? I’m here.”

Harry swallows thickly, nodding and pecking Louis’ lips as he watches Zayn make his way directly to the bar. The way his golden eyes lay directly on the pair, even though there is probably a mile between them, tells Louis that Zayn knew he would be here.

Maybe that’s why he came.

His stomach turns, but he brushes it off. They will be fine.

**.**

They dance, laugh, eat, kiss – pressed against walls, tucked together in corners – and everything is just _fine_. Louis feels like he can finally breathe, under Harry’s arm, making rounds around the room to say hello to a few of Harry’s old friends, family; even the people Harry clearly doesn’t care for.

It’s not that he is happy to be there, not like he is comfortable or that he’s fine with the fact Harry’s parents don’t deem him good enough for their son. But he is there, he is alive, and Harry is making him feel like the most important person in the room. So, yeah, Louis can live through tonight.

“Harry, come on, we’re singing happy birthday!” Gemma whispers in passing, tucking Harry’s free hand on her way to the centre of the room. She is gorgeous, wearing a long black sparkly gown with her short blonde bob in waves; picture perfect and classic.

“Oh, fun.” Harry says sarcastically, but he grins and follows her nonetheless, pulling Louis along.

There is a large crowd in the centre of the room, a giant cake with at least five layers, and champagne is being served to every single person standing there. Before the lad can stop in front of Louis and Harry, the latter just shakes his head and gestures for him to keep going.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear Christie, happy birthday to you!” The crowd sings, Harry’s mother smiling brightly in her long red gown, hair up in some fancy do that Louis guesses that took an entire can of product to keep like that.

Harry sings along and he seems genuinely pleased for a moment, his eyes twinkling with happiness while he watches his mother clapping excitedly. She blows out a candle that sits on top of a small cupcake that Burt Styles hands her while the cake itself remains untouched, and then everyone’s cheering.

“Thank you, thank you all so very much.” She smiles as the crowd’s noise dies down. “I know you’re all expecting a big speech right now, but…” Christine pats the spot under her eyes with a small napkin that came out of God knows where. “Tonight is the first party that my son, Harry Edward, has attended since he got into university, four years ago. He is graduating soon, and then after that, he is headed to one of the greatest medicine schools of the country, and we are all so, so proud that he is taking over the family business.”

_Oh, no._

Louis can feel Harry tensing up next to him and he squeezes his hand firmly, trying to offer some support. Harry is visibly uncomfortable, eyes wide and lips parting a few time as he searches for words to say.

“Harry, darling, would you mind giving us a speech?” Christine smiles widely at him, and an unfamiliar hand pushes against Harry’s back, forcing him to step forward and let go of Louis’ hand.

Harry is pale, absolutely so, looking from his mother’s face to his father’s and Louis’. Louis tries to give him an encouraging smile, but it comes off as more of a grimace than anything.

“Oh, I don’t think I…I don’t think I should, mum. It’s your night.” He says finally, chuckling awkwardly and wiping his probably sweaty palms on the legs of his trousers.

“I can speak for him!” Comes from within the crowd, and _oh_. It’s Zayn. Zayn, pushing people out of the way, clearly drunk out of his bloody mind. Louis feels his body turning cold the exact moment his eyes find his face. “Harry, let me…let me do _that_ for you, at least.”

Both Burt and Christine look uncomfortable, but they make no move to stop Zayn. Harry looks terrified.

“Let’s give Harry a big cheer for being here tonight, yeah?” He claps his hands together excitedly. “And more than that, let’s give him a big cheer for his lovely, lovely boyfriend over there. Mister Louis Tomlinson.”

_No, no, no._

“Zayn, stop,” Harry says firmly, eyebrows knitted together.

“No, wait! I haven’t got to the details yet. Louis William Tomlinson, twenty-eight years old, from Doncaster. A little Yorkshire lad,” he slurs with a grin. Louis is shivering from head to toe, all the eyes of the party on him. He steps forward and grabs Harry’s arm, pulling him back.

“What’s going on?” He hisses to him.

Harry has no time to reply.

“Harry, did you know Louis was fucking _Aiden_? Yes, I know his name too!” Zayn cheers excitedly. Louis’ mouth opens and closes, and he feels Harry’s eyes on his face. “Aiden, the younger lad who works at his little bookstore. The faithful lad that kept to Louis’ side through…it…all.” He sighs dramatically. “That is, of course, until a prettier, younger thing came around. _Harry Edward Styles_. Beautiful, smart, _rich_. A goldmine, isn’t he, Louis?”

“I don’t have to listen to this,” Louis growls out, letting go of Harry’s arm and turning around, immediately pushing people out of his way so he can get the hell away from there.

“Wait! I have a question,” Zayn calls out, and for whatever reason, Louis stops. He turns towards him, ignoring the eyes on him, and waits for it. For whatever the hell it is. “How many years sober, Lou?”

A gasp sounds from somewhere in the room, and Louis recognizes it as being Gemma. Great, so he lost her respect too.

Louis swallows thickly, eyes filled with tears. He feels Harry’s arm on his shoulder, he knows it’s him, but he can’t bring himself to look away from Zayn’s winning smirk.

“Six years sober, Zayn.” Louis remarks, loud enough that all the curious ears can hear him. “And I am so, so fucking _proud_ to be.”

And then he takes off.

He runs and runs and runs until he is opening the front door and running out of the house.

There is a loud thump coming from inside, and then people are screaming. One of them sounds an awful lot like Harry’s father, yelling “Harry Edward!”, but Louis doesn’t stick around to hear what happens next.

He continues to run, run, run until his lungs are on fire and his legs ache. He stops by the gate of the house and collapses to the ground, shaking with loud sobs, crying and crying and crying.

“Lou! Louis, please!” He can hear Harry shouting after him, can hear his loud steps running towards him. A few seconds later, Harry is collapsing next to him, down to his knees, pulling Louis against his chest.

Louis immediately pushes him away and Harry gasps, wide-eyed.

“How the fuck did he know that, Harry?! _How_?”

Harry looks puzzled for a moment. “Lou, I didn’t…I didn’t tell him anything.”

Louis’ face snaps towards him but it softens a bit. Of course he didn’t, of course Harry didn’t. But then again, Zayn knew, didn’t he?

“No, you didn’t tell him. But he _knew_. He knew because he is bloody obsessed with you, I’m quite sure he is mentally ill, and now _everyone_ knows!” Louis shouts at him, making Harry flinch and curl up into himself. “Can’t you fucking see? This would never work! Look at this place, look at this house!”

Louis is up to his feet now, and Harry follows him.

“You belong in a place like this, and I belong out there in the dirty world, along with other fucked up people,” Louis sobs. “This will never work, Harry, never…”

“No.”

“What?”

Harry steps ahead, pushing one finger against the middle of Louis’ chest. “Don’t you fucking dare, Louis.” He hisses. “You promised me. You fucking promised me that this wouldn’t change things in between us. You said you didn’t care about my parents’ money, and I fucking _believed_ you. I brought you here because you said _we_ would be _fine_.”

He is on the verge of tears as well, and Louis feels his chest tighten.

“What happened in there, I don’t fucking know how Zayn knows all that,” Harry continues, the first few tears coating his face. “I have no idea how he knows your full name, or the place you were born, or the fact that you were fucking Aiden before me. I couldn’t have told him _that_ because I didn’t know.”

Louis opens his mouth to speak, but Harry just brushes him off and continue.

“I don’t _care_ , Louis. I don’t care about your past. About what you did before me, where you went wrong. I care about you, and your fucking…” He sobs. “Your fucking _heart_ and your bloody _promises_ to me.”

Louis runs the back of his hand over his face, but it’s pointless because the tears are nonstop now. “Harry, I…”

“I am so, so sorry he exposed you like that. I am so, so, so sorry.” He sounds so honest that Louis feels dizzy, even though he should be used to it by now. “But it was not my fucking fault, and I will not let you end things with me over that. Please. _Please_ , Lou. You promised me forever just this…just this morning. Please.”

Louis is silent for so long after that, that he actually expects Harry to flip out at him or just turn around and leave.

At least five minutes go before he speaks again.

“Did you punch him?” Is what he says, voice hoarse and weak in his throat.

There is a tiny smile on Harry’s face, and he nods, lifting a hand for Louis’ inspection. There is a trace of blood across Harry’s knuckles.

“I did.” He sounds actually proud now. “I had never punched someone before, but I think I broke his nose.”

Louis laughs, and it’s wet, heartfelt, regretful. He pulls Harry towards him, wrapping his arms around the small of his back, and he presses a kiss against the top of his head when Harry bends down.

“My Hazza. I love you so much.”

Harry smiles softly against his neck, but there are still warm tears dripping down his chin and coating the collar of Louis’ shirt.

“Don’t do that anymore. It’s the second time you try to run away from me.” His voice is firm, albeit small and…scared. “I will continue to chase you forever, if that’s what you want, but _please_ stop running from me.”

Louis tightens his arm even more if that’s possible, and he kisses Harry deep, deep, and so lovingly.

“I’m sorry. I’m…no. I won’t run anymore.” He whispers against his lips, pecking them a few times.

Miles away from them, hell breaks loose inside the house, but Louis _knows_ they’ll be alright, because Harry wants them to be and he will never deny Harry of anything he wants.

“Come on,” Louis tugs his hand. “I’ve got the key to my car. I was promised a drive around Holmes Chapel?”

Harry smirks, resting his arm over Louis’ shoulder, their hands still intertwined.

“ _And_ a ride, afterwards.”

“Yeah, that too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, hi! first of all, i am so sorry for the delay of this chapter. i had the longest week, truly, and just now had time to proof-read it. there might be some mistakes, because i'm exhausted, but i hope you can look past that. we are coming to an end! by the way, this is in no way how i see zayn malik in real life (i love you, my son - even if you piss me off at times), he is just a character here. leave your kudos and comments, please! much love. x


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for my delay. Hopefully you enjoy the ending.

By the time Louis and Harry come back to the house, it’s way past three in the morning and everyone has already left. The mansion is quiet and Louis is thankful for that – he doesn’t think he can handle another moment with one of the Styles’ or their friends.

They fall back in bed in their wrinkled outfits, lazy smiles on their faces despite everything that’s happened.

“I love you,” Harry’s whisper in the dark is the last thing Louis hears before he is in deep, deep slumber.

**.**

“Oh, you’re up,” Harry greets happily when he steps out of the en suit bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hips and another in his hand as he dries his longer curls.

Louis stretches his arms out lazily, blue eyes twinkling with glee when they examine every inch of skin that’s out in display for him. Harry seems to notice that, because his smile turns into a dirty grin, and he is about to drop the towel and crawl back in bed, when they hear a knock on the door.

“Ah, come on,” Harry sighs quietly. “Um, who is it?” He calls out louder.

“Breakfast’s been served, loves,” Louis recognizes Rosa’s voice saying. He smiles, despite the fact that his stomach is turning at the thought of seeing Harry’s family again. “Come out when you’re ready.”

Harry calls out a “Sure, yeah” and sighs as they hear her footsteps down the corridor again. He turns to Louis and gives him a sad smile, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching for his hand.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he says gently. “We can just pack up and leave. I’ll say goodbye to Gemma and Rosa, and I’ll meet you in the car.”

Despite his nerves and the voice screaming in his head to just accept that and flee, Louis shrugs. “No, come on. I’m hungry.”

He crawls out of the bed, gesturing towards the en suite.

“I need a shower, though. Can you wait out here for me?” He has already started unbuttoning his shirt, tossing it aside along with his trousers. When his underwear lands on the carpeted floor with a soft thud, Harry’s eyes turn into a darker shade of red, and his rosy lips part.

“You know what, they can wait; how about I join you back in there?”

**.**

Louis _knew_ things would be awkward, of course he did, but this is just a whole new level. Even Harry seems tense sitting next to him, and he is quite positive that Gemma is staring at him from across the table – but he can’t tell, being as she is wearing large sunglasses. _Ha_ , hangovers.

“So,” it’s Christine Styles who breaks the silence, cutting another piece of fruit and stuffing it in her mouth with an almighty class that Louis can only dream of having. “That was quite the party that we…”

“Ah, mum, knock it off.” Gemma cries out, shooting her mother a glance. “Louis, in behalf of myself and my _parents_ , I would like to say that we are very, very sorry for what happened to you. The Malik’s have been our friends for decades and I can assure you nothing like that has ever happened before, hence why we were all taken by surprise.”

Louis clears his throat, cutting a small piece of pancake absently.

“It’s…it’s all good, Gemma. Not your fault.”

“No, it wasn’t. It wasn’t my fault, or my parents’, but we are Harry’s family and we want you to be feel comfortable in this house. Maybe if you do, Harry will do, as well.” She points out with a shrug. “So, please accept our apologies and the guarantee that you will never be disrespected like that again in here.”

Okay, well. This is…nice. Louis gives her a small, albeit genuine, smile and nods.

“Of course.” He says quietly, stuffing the pancake in his mouth.

He feels Harry relax next to him, and he doesn’t miss the small, thankful smile he sends Gemma’s way. She just waves him off and continues to eat her breakfast.

“For what it’s worth, Louis,” Burt says after another beat of silence. Everyone in the table turns to look at him, obviously surprised that he has decided to speak up. “I think you are very brave. You should be proud.”

Louis smiles wider this time around, reaching for his mug of tea.

“I am, sir. Incredibly so.”

And it feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

**.**

The first thing Louis does when they get back to London is call Aiden. Harry asks if he should tag along, offers to stick around just in case something goes wrong, but…well, it’s just stupid, isn’t it? He has known Aiden for a few good years, and even though he’s got a feeling that their friendship is about to come to an end, he trusts him enough to not do cause a scene in a public place.

They agree to meet for tea at this place nearby the store, and Louis is there before Aiden arrives, flipping through the pages of a book he’s reading casually, sipping on his tea and munching on biscuits.

Aiden gives him one small smile and takes a seat across from him.

“Can I get you anything?” Louis asks, eyes still on the book that he’s holding. Aiden must feel something is off, because he reaches for Louis’ hand and squeezes it.

That gets Louis’ attention. He gently withdrawals his hand, and Aiden frowns.

“Lou, it’s okay, I’m here if you need to talk.” He says simply, nodding his head. “I knew it was going to happen. I told you, didn’t I?”

It’s Louis’ turn to frown at him. “Excuse me?”

“You…and…Harry? Isn’t that why you called me over here?”

“What about me and Harry, Aiden?” Louis sips on his tea again, putting his book aside and leaning across the table just a bit in order to hear what he’s got to say. “Why do you think I called you here?”

Aiden looks a bit put off, to his credit, running a hand through his freshly cut hair and withdrawing the other to his side again.

“I…I reckon you called me here because you two broke up? Isn’t that the reason why?”

_Ah_ , there it is. Louis knew Aiden had zero faith on him and Harry, he had never been secretive about it. That was the cue he was waiting for.

“Do you know Zayn Malik?” He asks firmly, not missing a beat of the way Aiden’s face turns pale, his lips opening and closing. “I asked you a question, Aiden. Do you, or do you not, know Zayn Malik?”

“I…” He clears his throat, looking away. “I’ve met him, yes.”

Louis’ grins to himself, but it’s just…sad. He can’t believe it; he can’t believe Aiden did this to him.

“Have you discussed our past and _my_ past with said Zayn Malik?”

 Aiden looks like he’s been slapped now, face flushed an angry red, the corners of his lips turning down like he is about to cry.

“He approached me one night, when I was closing the shop. Asked me if I knew you.” Aiden says quietly, almost _too_ quietly. Louis squeezes his hand around his mug and urges him to continue. “He is bloody gorgeous, so I…I said I did. He asked me if I wanted to go out for drinks, and I said yes.”

“Of course you did,” Louis sips on his tea, calm as one can be, not letting his inner rage show on his face. “And what happened?”

“We slept together. I was a little tipsy and…he asked me about you…about…about your life. I told him everything.” He breaks finally, covering up a small sob with a palm stretched out over his mouth. “I am so, so sorry, Louis. I was feeling hurt and left out. It was the day you brushed me off because of Harry, and I…I felt like I was losing you.”

“I was never yours,” Louis’ voice is cold. “I was never yours and I never told you I was. I never promised you anything, Aiden, but my friendship and loyalty. I never…fuck, I did _nothing_ to deserve this.”

“No, no, you didn’t. I swear you didn’t,” he is quick to add, reaching for Louis’ hand again. Louis just lifts it away from his reach. “I am so sorry, Louis. I don’t know what he did with that information, or how you came to know about this, it’s been _months_ but I…I’m so sorry.”

Louis takes another long sip of his steaming mug of tea, puts it aside and reaches for the wallet in his back pocket, taking out a few pounds to pay for his drink. He stands up, every movement calm and calculated, and smooths his hand over one of Harry’s plaid shirts he is wearing.

“You have two months to find a new job, Aiden. Out of respect, and in the name of the friendship we used to have, I’ll have you around my store until then.” His eyes are a shade of icy blue when he stares ahead at the other male, watches the way he crumbles with small sobs and tears. “After that, please do not contact me ever again. I don’t want you in my life anymore.”

Aiden is calling out for Louis’ name, he can hear him, but his heart is pounding in his chest as he leaves the store, walking straight past his store, into Harry’s campus.

He walks for what it feels like ages, but it’s good, it clears his head. By the time he gets to Harry’s building, walks in when a group of students walks out, and walks up the stairs to Harry’s room, he is already feeling a lot better.

He knocks on the door a few times and Harry opens it with sleepy eyes, his hair a mess, a heavy textbook resting against his hips.

“Baby?” He greets softly, looking over Louis’ face and body for any signs that things went wrong with Aiden.

“Can I come in?” Louis’ small voice asks; Harry is quick to nod, stepping aside so his boyfriend can come in his small dormitory room. Liam is nowhere to be found, and Harry’s bed is covered in a bunch of books that Louis can’t even put a name to. “Were you studying?”

Harry nods quietly. “Yeah, I…just some light reading,” he chuckles at his own joke. “I have a month to decide which school I’m going to, but either one of them is going to be _hard_ , so I’m trying to start ahead.”

Louis grins, standing on his toes just a tad bit in order to brush his lips against Harry’s forehead. “My overachiever,” he coos softly. He kicks off his shoes and crawls over the books on Harry’s bed, making himself small in the corner against the wall. “Can you…read some stuff out loud for me while I take a nap?”

Harry smiles. “Of course,” he crawls over to lay down next to Louis, resting the book on his bent knees and stretching an arm out for the older lad to snuggle against.

Louis falls asleep to the sound of Harry’s deep voice reading him things that he has no idea what they mean, and despite every wrong thing that’s ever happened in his life, he has never felt more right.

**.**

May ends with the incredible news that Harry’s been accepted to UCL – it’s one of the best medicine programs in the _world_ and he wasn’t even hoping to get accepted. It just…happened.

His graduation is in a couple of weeks and he is _static_ because “It’s UCL, Lou! _U…C…L_!”. Louis cheers as loud as Harry does, despite having no idea what that even means. All that he is getting to watch the man he loves’ dreams coming true right before his very eyes, and if that’s not a reason to be beaming with happiness, nothing else is.

He drags Harry into his bedroom that weekend and they don’t leave for anything order than food and bathroom breaks – Niall laughs at first, whole heartedly and pure like he is himself, so happy for Harry and his dreams coming true, but then he decides it’s gotten too weird and leaves the house.

By the time he returns on Monday, he is as happy, if not more, than Louis and Harry had been when he left them.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Louis calls out when Niall barges into their bedroom Monday night. He and Harry are naked in bed, sprawled across the sheets and recovering from their long weekend, but Niall doesn’t seem phased by that. “Oi, what the hell? What are you doing, Nialler?”

Harry pulls the duvet over his naked body and Louis’, eyeing Niall with pure amusement. They’ve never seen Niall like that before.

“A demo!” Niall shouts into the bedroom, making Louis jump.

“What did you say?”

“They offered me a demo! In L.A, Lou!” He crawls on the bed, bouncing on the bed excitedly, blue eyes wide with happiness.

“What? Who’s they, what’s happening?” Harry asks amusedly, scratching the back of his head as he watches Niall and Louis stare at each other with crazy smiles, like one of them has just discovered fire.

“You’re fucking messing with me!” Louis shouts then, jumping on Niall’s body, nakedness be damned.

“I am not, I swear I’m not! I leave in August and…oh my God, Lou…it’s happening.”

And then they’re crying, Louis and Niall, half of the pair butt-naked, while they hold each other and sob about _dreams_ and _finally_ and _I am so proud_.

Harry learns only one full hour later, when they’re not naked anymore and Niall is on his phone shouting the news to his parents in Ireland, that – many months ago – Niall had been approached by an A&R scout while playing a gig.

Louis didn’t mention it because it had slipped his mind, as it had slipped Niall’s, but now the guy had reached out for Niall and he was going to America to work on his career.

Louis shred a few more tears while telling the story – he would deny it, if ever brought up – and Harry couldn’t help but chuckle wetly, his green eyes moist with tears as well.

“I told you he deserves the world,” Harry says after a minute of silence in the flat. Louis doesn’t have time to answer before Niall is crawling on the bed again, jumping up and down like a child on Christmas’ morning.

“L.A, baby!”

**.**

The day of Harry’s graduation, Louis is so nervous that he thinks he is going to pass out before his boy even walks up on stage.

He saw him just that morning, giving him a good luck kiss – and maybe something extra, at that – and sending him off for his day before they meet again.

He had to pick his mum and sisters up from the train station – Harry met Jay and the girls a few weeks before now, when Louis went to visit them in Doncaster and brought Harry along; needless to say, they were smitten from the word “Hello” – and then pick up his own tux from the shop, rolling his eyes at the girls’ teasing.

“You look handsome, boo,” his mother cooed to him, pinching his warm cheeks. If it ever brought up, Louis would deny having blushed at all.

Now, he sits along the same row as Harry’s family – he gave Gemma a warm hug, and polite hello’s to her parents – with his _own_ family, and Niall. It’s insane to think that a year ago, he hadn’t even stepped on this bloody campus – now he was about to watch the love of his life graduate, finish the first step of his long way of dreams coming true.

**.**

Niall and Louis throw Harry a party at the flat and, despite not being _small_ , the place was packed. The party was alcohol-free, Harry’s own request, but that didn’t mean that people weren’t just as excited to be there. Gemma was there, mingling, dancing and giggling with Louis’ sisters; his parents went home, they had to work, but that was alright. Harry seemed happy, an arm hanging around Jay’s shoulders as he danced with her, making silly moves and faces just to make his future mother-in-law laugh.

And…what. _Future mother-in-law._

Louis’ thoughts startled him, making him jump from his spot on the couch.

“Alright there, mate?” Niall’s voice brought Louis’ back to reality. He was sitting on the arm of their couch, had been talking loudly to some of Harry’s friends they had literally just met. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Louis shook his head, staring ahead at where, now, Harry danced with one of his twin sisters in each arm. He was _so_ , so screw.

“Yeah, he is bloody charming, isn’t he?” Niall laughs from beside him, ruffling Louis’ hair. The latter is so hypnotised that he can’t be brought to care. “Have you asked him yet?”

Louis swallows thickly, shaking his head. He still hasn’t looked at Niall – now, Harry is dancing with Fizzy, Lottie and Gemma as well, surrounded by the women of their lives, making them all laugh and beam at him.

Louis loves him so much he could burst.

“Maybe you should,” Niall smacked his shoulder. “Now! Go, now, now.”

Louis sighs and nods, blindly reaching for his pocket to make sure that what he needs is there, and then he makes a beeline to where Harry stands, patting his arm gently.

“Hazza?” He calls out a bit over the louder music. All the girls turn to look at him and so does Harry, his eyes bright and smile wide like it always is when he is having a lot of fun. “Baby, can we talk? In private.”

Harry’s smile turns a bit confused, but he cackles when the girls go “Ooohhh, I think you’re in trouble, Harry!”. Louis just rolls his eyes at them.

“Yes, yes, of course.” He reaches for Louis’ hand, pulling him along down the corridor of the flat. He opens the door to Louis’ bedroom and pushes him inside, before he makes his way in as well, closing the door behind them. “What is it? _Am_ I in trouble?” Harry giggles.

Louis can’t help but laugh as well, shaking his head. “No, of course not.”

“Phew!” Harry wipes a hand over his slightly sweaty forehead dramatically. “Dodged a bullet here.” He reaches out for Louis’ hips, pulling him to stand in between his legs when he sits on the edge of the bed. “What is it, Lou?”

Louis clears his throat, taking a deep breath.

“Well, as you…as you know, Niall is leaving next month.” He points out, to which Harry pouts a bit and mumbles ‘I’ll miss him’. “Yeah, yeah, me too. He’ll come visit all the time, though, it’s not about that.”

He smiles weakly at Harry.

“You’re starting school in…what, two months?” Harry nods. “Two months. And, um, upon doing some research…” Harry interrupts him, giggling and saying ‘You’re talking funny’, but Louis can’t do anything other roll his eyes fondly. “Shut up, let me continue.”

He waits until Harry is done making a zipping motion across his lips, and continues.

“Well, upon doing some research, I found out your campus is not far from here. From this…this flat.” Louis clears his throat, wiping his sweaty palms on the sleeves of Harry’s plaid shirt of the day. “And since Niall is moving out, I…” He reaches for his pocket, pulling out a key that hangs from a red bowl that Lottie had made for him earlier. “I was wondering if…”

“Yes!” Harry squeals, taking the key from him with a wide smile. “Yes, you silly goose, I will move in with you.”

They stand there kissing for so many minutes that Niall actually barges in the room, banging against the door obnoxiously loud and shouting “There are children outside!”.

Louis tells Niall about ‘silly goose’.

They laugh until they can’t anymore, because Harry is Harry, and Harry is perfect, and Harry is coming to live with him.

**.**

_November_

There is a new girl working at the bookstore, and she is such a delight that Louis can’t help but invite her over to (another) house-warming party Harry is throwing for their new/old flat. It’s still Louis’ old flat, but Harry is a part of it now, so needless to say, things look a whole lot different now that it’s not a two bachelors’ pad. Her name is Sophia, and she and Liam – who’s been sulking ever since his Literature girl left – hit it off right away.

Louis is watching them with a knowing smirk when Gemma barges in the apartment, her hair longer now and a darker shade of blonde. He greets her with warm hugs and kisses, and laughs out loud when she hands him the only gift she had time to buy on her way here – a large box of condoms.

“Gemma! What the hell?” Harry hisses, gesturing to where Louis’ eldest baby sister, Lottie, is sitting on the couch. She is visiting schools in London, and is probably going to stay with them for the first few months, so it’s understandable why Harry blushes so fiercely.

“Ah, for crying out loud, I’ve been here a few days, I’ve heard things I won’t ever forget.” She rolls her eyes at them, and comes over to Gemma’s side, and they start talking haircare and fashion. Louis is too old for this shit, he thinks, so he just takes Harry’s hand and drags him away from the crowd.

“Hey,” Harry says softly once they’re leaning back against a corner of the room, Louis’ arm resting on the side of his face as his own back rests against the wall. “What did you bring me here for?”

“Nothing,” Louis shrugs. He reaches out for Harry’s waist, rubbing his thumb on the little love handle there, under the shirt. “Feel like I haven’t seen you all day, though. How were your classes?”

Harry cocks his hip to the side, smiling down at Louis. He looks more mature, these days. Although they haven’t been together for longer than a few months, he and Harry have gone through a lot and have gotten to know each other in ways that people with twice as much time as them possibly haven’t yet.

“What’s really up, Lou?” Harry reaches out for his neck, wrapping his arms around it and pulling Louis closer. The older lad gives in easily, pressing one, two, three soft kisses against Harry’s mouth until they are just smiling, unable to stop.

“Umm…I’m officially six years sober today,” Louis murmurs softly.

Harry’s eyes widen just a little bit, and he leans in for another kiss.

“I am so, so proud of you. I know I haven’t been here through it all, but I promise I will always be.” His voice is low and deep, like he is afraid to speak any louder and burst this little perfect bubble they’re in.

“Oh, I know.” He grins, pecking Harry’s lips again. “I know you will be.”

There were three encounters that changed Louis Tomlinson’s life: one, when he was fifteen and ran into his monster of a father; two, when Niall found him at the park; and three, when Harry Styles stepped into his bookstore many months ago.

Each of these encounters symbolize something different for him; his downfall, his gasp for air and, finally, his will to live.

**.**

_December, one year later_

“Come on, old man, blow out your candles!” Niall shouts from within the small crowd around him.

There is a big cake – that Harry himself baked – sitting on the dinner table of Louis’ mother’s house, in Doncaster. All of his sisters are around him, along with his mother, grandparents, Mark, Dan, a few uncles and aunts and even an estranged cousin or two.

Niall is there, flew back from L.A – where he is now recording an _actual_ album – and even Gemma came back from Paris as well.

Harry is standing next to him, his now long, long hair pulled in an actual bun, and he is clapping so excitedly that one would think it was _his_ birthday.

His _30 th _birthday.

Louis is thirty. Oh my God.

“Shut the fuck up, Irish. You’re old, too.” He hisses at Niall, to which he just laughs and Jay rolls her eyes and says “Language” amongst her own laughter.

Harry squeezes his arm, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. “My old man,” he whispers in Louis’ ear, making him chuckle and sigh.

Yeah, yeah. He supposed he could be doing a lot worse.

He leans over and blows the mocking ‘30’ candles that Niall set out on the cake, and everyone is cheering, laughing when Louis fakes a sob and buries his face against Harry’s chest.

Harry is one year in his med school program, and he is always so _busy_ that Louis feels like his boy is always one gentle stroke from falling asleep on him. It’s Christmas, though, and being the second time they’ve spent it together, Louis knows by now that Harry is so excited that he probably won’t fall asleep until Louis fucks him into oblivion.

“Um,” Harry clears his throat, arms tight around Louis’ shoulder. “If I could please have…um, have everyone’s attention?”

Louis pulls back, eyeing him with a quizzical smile on his face. “What’s up, H? Surely you’re not about to smash me face into this cake, are you? I was planning to eat it.”

Harry shakes his head, chuckling nervously, and steps back from Louis.

The crowd around them grows even bigger now, all of the party members gathering as Harry requested. Louis feels the back of his neck turning warm, because he has no idea what Harry is up to.

“Lou, when I…when I met you, one year ago, I was so…so _lost_. I knew who I wanted to be and I,” he chuckles wetly. “I knew what I had to do to get there, but I didn’t have the courage, you know?”

Louis feels his face growing warm, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Oh, come on, baby. Knock it off.” He laughs nervously, looking around the room and realizing that _everyone_ is watching them.

“You have taught me so much, Louis. I know it doesn’t feel a lot of time for most people, but after this one year, you’ve made me into a man. I was a boy, when I met you. Lost and out-of-place, even if I never let it show,” Harry licks his lips in a nervous habit that Louis had picked up as well. “I have never loved and admired another being as much as I do you. I have never been able to recognize my soulmate into someone else, until the day I walked into your shop.”

Louis feels his eyes stinging with tears, and he doesn’t think he can stop them from falling.

“I love you so, so, so insanely much, Louis, and I want to spend every single day of my life with you.” He takes a deep intake of breath then, and reaches for his jeans pocket and… _oh_ , fucking fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Louis feels his knees going weak so he reaches for the edge of the table for support, jaw going slack, eyes going wide. He can hear a few gasps as Harry goes down to one knee, propping the other up and holding out a small black box. Inside, two thick white gold bands sit.

“Louis William,” Harry is crying now, and Louis hears a sob that sounds a lot like his own, but he can’t be bothered to care or check. All he can see, hear, feel and breathe is Harry. “Will you marry me?”

“Oh, bloody hell,” Louis blurts out. Harry smiles, widely so, and raises an eyebrow. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”

There is a chorus of cheering as Louis tackles Harry to the ground with a desperate kiss, flashes going off and people laughing at the sickeningly in love pair.

**.**

They don’t get married until Harry finishes med school, three years later, but that’s absolutely fine. It’s actually part of the plan. Harry wants a nice wedding, but he wants to pay for it himself – no money from his parents, thank you very much.

In between Harry’s starting residency, Louis’ shop and other savings, they gather up enough money for a decent-sized party and the first pay of their very own suburban house, with the white fence that Louis mentioned.

The wedding is simple but nice, and at the end of the day, they find their mothers to be talking like old friends and even Burt looks like he’s shed a tear or two. Louis smiles to himself, but makes no move to mention it – he’s come a long way with Harry’s parents, but he knows the boundaries.

They don’t actually go on honeymoon, because Harry is so busy with his residency, but it doesn’t even matter. _Every single day feels like a honeymoon_ , is what Louis tells him. Harry smiles and shakes his head, promising him that someday, they _will_ go on a honeymoon.

Liam and Harry stop by one Saturday morning and actually re-paint the walls of the shop, and Louis pretends like he is annoyed, rolls his eyes a few times, but he is actually so happy that he ends up helping them out as well. It’s good practice because, by the end of that year, they’re moving into their house and Louis has to put up with Harry’s crazy décor adventures at least twice a week.

He is such a good husband; Harry should pay him back for that. (He does; quite a lot, to be honest. They christen every surface, corner, room and wall of the house more than once. Niall walks in on them in compromising positions a few times, when he’s coming to visit.)

Liam and Sophia, who have been dating for over three years, announce that she is pregnant the Summer after that and that drives Harry _insane_ with baby-fever. They’re both busy – Harry at the hospital, Louis doing a little makeover at the shop – but he makes Louis promise that they will have their own babies someday soon.

Louis is on board, of course. They settle down for Frida for the time being – old and cranky, but as chubby as always – but when she passes away after Christmas that year, Harry is sobbing on Louis’ lap, and Louis thinks that it’s time they take that next step.

A big house, a white picket fence, a kid or two and the Golden Retriever that Niall sends as a gift when he goes away on tour, just because he knows they’ll miss him too much – “And what is more Niall than a Golden Retriever?”, the card says.

Many years ago, Harry asked Louis to tell him ‘his happy ending’ and, at the time, he did. He told him the end of a story that he thought was his actual one. He had been so wrong.

His alcoholism wasn’t his story; his recovery wasn’t his happy ending.

That was just the middle section of his story.

Harry Edward Tomlinson – that was his happy ending.

**_fin_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> our final chapter! i am so, so thankful for all the kudos i've gotten in this story. it may not seem a lot to most people, but i definitely wasn't expecting any attention whatsoever when writing this, so i'm beyond happy. thank you so much and here's to future stories. x


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little more of their happy ending.

_Ten years later_

“Fuck, just…just a little…” Louis grunts out, bucking his hips up into Harry’s warm, big hand. He’s got it wrapped around both of their cocks, urging them closer, closer and closer into an orgasm.

It’s perfect, slick, hot, tight and the friction is driving Louis mad to the point that his eyes are actually rolling back.

“Ugh, I’m gonna…come…” Harry moans as quietly as he can, biting the inside of his cheek hard to keep from being too loud.

They’ve had their loud, _loud_ go a few nights ago – Niall was in town for a little break, so Louis announced that it was “Sleepover at Uncle Ni!!!” with a text and told him to come pick up the kids before seven, when his and Harry’s dinner reservations were due.

Now, though, they’ve got two kids at home and it’s a Saturday morning, which means that – if they’re quiet enough – they can finish this off and sleep for a few more hours before they’re brought awake by a father obligation or two.

Louis shudders with an orgasm, biting down on Harry’s shoulder, and releasing into his husband’s palm. Harry follows him seconds later, panting heavily, moving in between Louis’ legs as if they were actually fucking.

A loud crash coming from downstairs startles them apart, followed by a cry of “Daddy!” and, down the corridor, Tommy starts crying loudly, obviously having been awakened by the loud noises.

“Fuck!” Harry jumps off of Louis’ body, and Louis follows suit, already pulling his sweatpants back up, brushing his sweaty fringe off his forehead. “I’ll go clean up, you go downstairs and then I’ll get the baby, yeah?”

Louis just nods, already out the door by the time Harry’s finished talking. He practically runs downstairs, following the muffled sounds of Ella’s sobbing to the kitchen. Truth to his suspicions, she is sitting down on the floor, clutching her knee against her chest, an obvious scratch on it.

“Baby!” He coos, rushing over to her. He picks her up easily and she clings to him like a lifeline; Louis places his eldest child on the kitchen table and examines the small cut up close. It’s nothing too bad, she will be fine; Louis releases a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “What happened, love?”

The little girl sobs again, bringing her hand up to wipe tears away from her face. Ella is nine now, as she so kindly likes to remind everyone she meets, and she is definitely a _big_ girl at this point – ‘Crying is for little girls, daddy,’ she told Louis just last week.

“I…I wanted to make breakfast for you and Papa,” she pouts a bit, lower lip trembling. She looks so cute, with her hair up in two space buns (Harry’s new favourite hair do for their little girl) and her pink pyjamas. “But the stupid cereal was too high up so I…”

“ _Language_.”

She rolls her chocolate eyes in a manner that she has _definitely_ picked up from Louis himself. “I had to climb the counter, of course.”

“Of course,” he tuts playfully. She giggles this time around, tears forgotten.

In the morning light, her dark skin is _especially_ beautiful, Louis thinks. As are her pouty lips and the row of perfect white teeth.

Looking at her now, Louis can’t even believe how small and fragile she had been when he and Harry brought her home from the orphanage, seven years ago.

He is about to tell her off for climbing on things and messing around the kitchen without supervision, but Harry chooses that moment to walk in the kitchen, all sleepy eyes and scruffy chin, nestling their youngest child against his broad chest carefully.

Tommy is eight months old, and they actually went through a surrogate mother for his birth. It was stressful and even crazy at times, but they did it, they got through it, and now they had this little boy to prove it.

He is wide awake, Louis notices, bright blue eyes twinkling at him while he sucks on his pacifier like he hadn’t been full blown screaming just minutes ago.

“Did I wake him? Did I wake Tommy?” Ella pouts again, making grabby hands for her little brother. “I am so sorry, Tommy.”

Louis chuckles, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead. “Nah, it’s okay, it was about time he got up anyway,” he teases.

She smiles and accepts a wet kiss on the cheek from her Papa, Harry carefully placing the baby in her arms while she bends over to examine her knee. “What do we have here, little princess?”

“It hurts, Papa,” she pouts but, otherwise, is too busy staring at her little brother on her lap to care about silly wounds like her knee’s.

Louis and Harry exchange a knowing look, grinning.

“You see, Hazza, Ella here was trying to make us breakfast, but the _stupid_ cereal was too high up.” Louis tuts, cocking his hip to the side while he stands closely to Ella, supervising her hold of her brother. She had accidentally dropped him a few weeks ago – it had been fine, he fell on the carpet and didn’t even cry too much, but _she_ did and told Louis, all serious look in her brown eyes, ‘Daddy, you were very irresponsible! I’m _small_ , you have to be here in case Tommy falls from my arms!’.

Louis suppressed his laughter in front of her, but then managed to tell the story to everyone in their families, friends and even a few costumers that came into the store. He was insanely smitten by his daughter, sue him.

“The _stupid_ cereal, was it?” Harry sighs dramatically, picking up a small first-aid kit from the top shelf. “Well, that was probably my fault, El, I apologize. We both know it couldn’t be your daddy, since he is so _small_.”

Louis feigned hurt, but was too delighted by her loud giggles to care. Tommy starts giggling in her arms too, just because his big sister did so, and then _Harry_ is giggling along while he wipes her cut clean and places a bandage on it.

Louis has never been happier.

“If I’m so _small_ , I think you will be fine having your Papa teach your how to ride your new bike, right, El?” He teases, raising an eyebrow.

Harry places a kiss on her now bandaged knee and then another on her forehead, taking Tommy from her and walking to the fridge to get his milk and start heating it.

“No, daddy, _please_.” Ella whispers when Harry has his back to them; of course, her whispers are too loud (“It’s not really a whisper if you just make your voice weaker, Ellie,” Niall told her once) and, of course, Harry can hear her, but Louis knows he won’t mind. “Papa goes so _slow_!”

Louis can see the way Harry’s lips stretch in a wide smile when he takes the bottle from the microwave, makes sure it’s not too warm, and places the nipple of it in Tommy’s mouth.

“But I’m so _small_ ,” Louis whines dramatically, leaning against her side on the table. “Surely I won’t be of any help.”

Ella, being Louis’ daughter like she is, sighs dramatically, falling back against the length of the table. Harry snickers from where he is standing.

“ _Okay_ , daddy, okay,” she sits up again, her brown eyes searching for Harry’s across the room. “Papa, that was not _nice_. Daddy is not small; he is ‘pact.”

It’s a practiced line, of course it is, but it makes Harry laugh all the same.

“Come again?” He requests with a raised eyebrow.

Louis leans over in her ear and whispers the correct word, to which she nods quickly.

“Compact, I meant. He is compact.”

The winning smile on Louis’ face is worth everything else, so Harry just sighs, bouncing Tommy in his arms a bit.

“Alright, alright. He is compact.” He allows with a chuckle. Tommy sucks the last drops of milk from the bottle and Harry walks over to where Louis stands, handing him their son carefully. “Here, Mr. Compact, you burp him this time around.”

Louis cackles, already placing Tommy on his shoulder and gently rubbing his back before he starts bouncing him around the kitchen.

He is going to be covered in goo in no time, he knows that, but – watching Ella climb on Harry’s back while he squeals “Let’s find the stupid cereal!” and makes her laugh – he’s the happiest he’s ever been.

With his little baby in his arms, in his suburban house, as he watches his perfect husband and beautiful daughter prancing around the kitchen, singing silly songs about a Captain Cereal or something equally as crazy.

“Hey,” Louis calls out softly after Tommy burps and, of course, vomits some goo on the shoulder of his t-shirt. “You know how it’s been a few months since James…turned into a little star?” He clears his throat; their trusty, beloved Golden Retriever had passed away months prior, and Ella was still very tender on the subject. “I think we should get a new dog.”

Ella squeals, mushing Harry’s cheeks with her small hands and turning his face to her. “Did you hear that, Papa? A new James!”

Harry squeals back, just to earn a giggle from their daughter, and green eyes meet blue ones across the kitchen, a smile written across both of their faces.

A true happy ending.

**_the end_ **


End file.
